Never Eat Alone

22. Be Interesting

I remember when being a marketer was simpler. Essentially, marketers were expected to create an ad, get it to the consumer through one of the few available media sources, and then sit back and wait.

Those days are good and gone. The way the world speaks and listens has changed radically. And the tools we use to communicate are changing at a similar pace. As access to consumers grows, so does consumer power. They can choose from hordes of entertainment venues, use software tools to filter out unwanted messages, and shoot down surviving messages with a heightened sense of cynicism. It's just not as easy to be heard. Brand loyalty is tougher to achieve. Conventional advertising and marketing just won't cut it—and neither will traditional thinking among those who want to get their message across. The CMO of today and tomorrow must be a strategist, a technologist, creative, and always focused on the sales and financial return on his marketing investments. Not a lot of individuals, consulting firms, or agencies combine all those traits. As a result, the life of the CMO is a lonely one, and the life of the CEO who expects all this is too often a frustrated one.

My growing sense of these changes, along with conversations with respected marketers, is the main reason I founded FerrazziGreenlight, to focus on marketing strategies and programs that push the marketing spend closer to actual sales. To count less on big broadcast advertising and more on building personalized loyalty between clients and their customers. That might mean creating a loyalty program for a retailer similar to what we operated at Starwood Hotels. Or designing an infomercial for a complex new product launch. Or facilitating an "ambassador's program" for a large engineering firm that targeted just 500 customers, prospects, and infiuencers in the United States.

I hope it's not a surprise that I see effective marketing as just building relationships with customers and prospective customers.

Let me translate this macro trend to a very personal scene that repeats itself over and over again when I give lectures at colleges. It will take place just before or after I've given my talk. A student will muster the nerve to approach me, and admiring as I am of such initiative, I'll be very receptive. Then, remarkably, nothing will be said beyond, "Hi, I'm so-and-so and your talk was great." Perhaps I'll ask what they got out of it or how they see what I talked about playing out around them in the world. Too often, my attempts are met with comments like "Oh, I don't know," or "I just think what you said was great. I'm not sure I could ever do all t h a t . . . "

Oh, wow, I'd think, it was fantastic talking with you, but I've got some bathroom tiles that need cleaning. Not to be too rough here, but how can you talk to someone when they have nothing to say? How can you offer your company or your network anything of value if you have not thought about how you want to stand out and differentiate yourself in building that relationship?

Marketers and networkers alike take heed: Be interesting! All that you've read thus far doesn't relieve you of the responsibility of being someone worth talking to, and even better, worth talking about. Virtually everyone new you meet in a situation is asking themselves a variation on one question: "Would I want to spend an hour eating lunch with this person?"

Consultants call it the airport question. In the lengthy interview process that that industry has become famous for—a peppering of complicated case studies and logic-testing puzzles—the one question consultants use to choose one person over a pool of equally talented candidates is the one question they ask only of themselves: "If I were trapped in John F. Kennedy Airport for a few hours [and all travel-weary consultants inevitably spend too much time in airports], would I want to spend it with this person?"

Have you mentioned in conversation your large jazz collection, or the time you spent in the Ivory Coast, or your contrarian views on some political debate? Squeeze a little time into your schedule to keep up with what's going on in the world. Pay attention to interesting tidbits you hear, and work to remember them so that you can pass them on to people you meet. Get a daily subscription to the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal. Remember, people don't only hire people they like, they hire people that they think can make them and their companies better. That means someone with an expanded view of the world. It means you need to be aware of your intellectual property, and what you have to say that others might benefit from. It shows you're interested and involved in the world around you.

What happens when you don't have a platform of ideas to defend? When you're running for office, you lose an election.

In my sophomore year at Yale, I ran for New Haven City Council. The party in New Haven wanted an outspoken, presentable candidate to run against the less-than-exciting opposing candidate. I had been known through my involvement in the Political Union as a very young chairman, having started one of the first fraternities on campus (Sigma Chi), and therefore had some name recognition. When offered the opportunity, I jumped at it. I didn't have a thought as to what I had to offer or why New Haven might want me as its representative. This was more ego than forethought.

To this day, my loss in that election sticks in my craw. I actually refused to dig in and really campaign, to learn the local issues. My opponent, Joel Ratner, developed a deep local platform and took to the streets and dining halls. I shied away from that level of engagement, expecting that my dynamic style would carry the day.

Joel was emboldened by his ideas, and his passion galvanized voters. I, on the other hand, just thought it would be cool to run for an elected office. After all, I was recruited. I didn't seek the office, and I told the party up front that my studies and other leadership responsibilities had to come first.

Well, my defeat was embarrassing, and it was my own fault. The experience taught me an important lesson. No matter what organization I represented or what professional avenue I pursued in the future, all my efforts had to be powered by a deep passion and a set of beliefs that went well beyond my own personal benefit. To move others, you have to speak beyond yourself. Boldly putting yourself out there was one thing, and a good thing, but that wasn't enough. There was a difference between getting attention and getting attention for your desire to change the world. Congratulations, Joel, I hear you did a great job. The better man clearly won in that race.

Be a Person of Content: Have a Unique Point of View

Being interesting isn't just about learning how to become a good conversationalist. Don't get me wrong, that is important, but you need a well-thought-out point of view. I honestly hope from now on you'll be a newspaper-reading maniac ready to engage the topics of the day with anyone you meet. But being interesting and having content are very different. The former involves talking ntelligently about politics, sports, travel, science, or whatever you'll need as a ticket of admission to any conversation. Content involves a much more specialized form of knowledge. It's knowing what you have that most others do not. It's your differentiation. It's your expertise. It's the message that will make your brand unique, attracting others to become a part of your network.

Being known is just notoriety. But being known for something is entirely different. That's respect. You have to believe in something, as Joel Ratner did, for people to believe in you.

Once I learned my lesson, I wasn't going to repeat it. I was not just going to be another generalist. I was going to have a unique point of view, an expertise. My first job out of college at Imperial Chemical Industries, I mastered the ins and outs of Total Quality Management. Later, when I worked at Deloitte, reengineering was my hook. At Starwood, I pushed for direct marketing. Later, I mastered interactive marketing. Today, I've wrapped all my experiences into a set of beliefs around the radically changing dynamics of marketing overall and its evolution toward relationship marketing: moving marketing dollars closer to sales.

In every job and at every stage in my career, I had some expertise, some content that differentiated me from others and made me unique, made me more valuable in my relationships with others and the company I worked for. It created precious opportunities for me to gain credibility and visibility in my field. Content is a cause, an idea, trend, or skill—the unique subject matter on which you are the authority.

What will set you apart from everybody else is the relentlessness you bring to learning and presenting and selling your content. Take, for example, my experience when I was hired as CEO of YaYa. The company's board was aware of how I had used reengineering to heighten the market's perception of Deloitte, and how, at Starwood, the idea of changing the way the hospitality industry branded itself generated a wave of publicity. They knew that the ability to capture a buzz-worthy message and get it into the crowded marketplace of ideas would prove crucial for a new company whose product was totally untested. This seemed right for me. I was a "market maker": someone who could create excitement and belief around YaYa's point of view. The problem was coming up with the credible and unique point of view that people were ready to buy. That was our challenge, or the company would fail.

One of our first goals when I came to YaYa was to find a hook that could transform the company's current lack of sales while also generating broader intrigue in the marketplace, and really create a market. I started, as I always do, by immersing myself in the subject. I became a voracious reader and would spend hours late at night checking out a variety of articles, analyst reports, books, and Web sites. I talked to CEOs, journalists, and consultants who specialized in the interactive advertising industry, games industry, and training world.

This stage can be quite frustrating. There's a huge learning curve to get up to speed. Suddenly you're confronted with a miasma of numbers, data points, differing opinions, and a boatload of disparate new information. On some occasions, as was the case with TQM and reengineering, you can acquire content by simply appropriating another person's innovative ideas and become a leader in distributing and applying those ideas. On other occasions, as with YaYa, we had to develop the content from scratch. That meant taking all the disparate dots of information and connecting them in a way others had not.

There should be no mystique around dot connecting among those who are continually at the forefront of business innovation. Remember those wise words of Mark McCormack in his book What They Don't Teach You at Harvard Business School: "Creativity in business is often nothing more than making connections that everyone else has almost thought of. You don't have to reinvent the wheel, just attach it to a new wagon."

As my immersion process continued, I became more and more frustrated that the marketing and training field was not taking advantage of the two powerful new mediums that YaYa was based on—the Internet and video games. As I learned more about marketing and training online, I drew analogies to other new mediums that changed the landscape. I reminded marketers that when we first transitioned from radio to television, all we did was put a camera in front of a radio announcer and call it advertising. It took a while to settle into the medium and its new rules. Here again, with the Internet, we were applying old models to a new environment. The Net was all about interactivity and community building, where concepts or just jokes were spread around the world in moments. And yet marketers were just taking old advertising ideas, like billboards and bumper stickers, and putting them online in the form of banner ads. That those ads weren't successful should have come as no surprise. Training had a similar argument. Would you rather engage in learning in a fun interactive environment or the traditional and stale forms of training that employees were being force-fed today? Which would be more effective?

Then you had the games world in general. The startling numbers suggested an untapped phenomenon. In 1999, games revenues surpassed movie box-office revenues. And the demographic of online gamers was changing radically as content was branching out to cater to adults and women. The average age of online gamers is now thirty-five, 49 percent of whom are women. I also learned of a German company that developed a cool turkey-shoot game for Johnnie Walker that got so many downloads, the prime minister commented that the game had become a drain on national productivity. Still, no one thought of games as anything but niche entertainment.

With the information at hand, I now had to connect the dots and find that new wagon. This is actually the fun part. You start in a fantasy world with no limitations or constraints. Instead of bashing my head against the wall trying harder and harder to solve a specific problem, I like to ask the question: "If I could use some magical potion in this situation, what could I do with all this new information?" Such fantasizing doesn't have to be, and often shouldn't be, a solitary endeavor. I get other interested parties— employees, colleagues, and insiders—to help me create wild scenarios and ask seemingly absurd questions. I did this with a small group, and we threw out each and every fantastical idea that came to us. By fantasizing, using the magic potion, and including a group of people to riff without rules, we were able to use our creativity to find a way forward.

These fantasy sessions were productive. We started to imagine how games might be applied to more than just leisure and entertainment. We started to question assumptions such as what business we were in (was it entertainment, marketing, or services?), what product we should offer (was it games, advertising, training, consulting, enabling technology?), and who our real customers could be (geeky adolescents, adults, Fortune 500 companies?). We started to visualize how we might connect the gaming medium— which had a large and growing demographic of users—and the Internet medium—which had a large and growing group of companies trying to figure out how best to use it to interact with their customers.

As an entrepreneur or an employee, you have the creative abilities to make similar connections in your own industry. How do I know? Because everyone has them! Your abilities may be stored away or infrequently used, but they are there. The question is, how do you put them to work for you? We went to work to crack this nut.

The results were significant. We realized there was an opportunity to not just sell games or sell advertising onto game sites but to create interactive games online to be used as a powerful and new immersive form of advertising. When people redefined YaYa as a marketing company rather than a video-game company, we realized our customers weren't the end users; our real customers were the companies who wanted access to the end users. The shift in focus allowed us to see games less as a product than a medium itself, able to deliver any kind of message one wanted to send. You could use games to train and educate employees, as advertising vehicles, in brand-awareness campaigns, in direct one-to-one marketing, as a means for collecting data on the preferences of customers, and so on. Where television eventually turned to commercials to replace the on-air radio personality, games could replace banner ads on the Internet.

And thus the unique point of view for YaYa was born. We began to trumpet advergaming and edutainment as the next powerful communications medium, an untapped marketing segment perfect for product placements, branded gaming events, custom games-related training for businesses, and on and on. It wasn't long before I was not only attending games conferences but also speaking at them.

Once a resonating pitch is perfected, getting attention is less of a problem. Journalists are hungry for ideas. Getting access to them is often as simple as calling the magazine or newspaper they work for, which can be found on their Web site, and asking to speak with the reporter that covers your beat. I've never met a journalist with a gatekeeper. Moreover, I've never had my calls go unreturned after leaving a message that said, "I've got the inside scoop on how the gaming industry is going to revolutionize marketing. I've appreciated your work for a long time now; I believe you are the right person to break this story."

I've been leaving those kinds of messages on reporters' voice mail for years, and reporters are hugely appreciative. Most of the time, the story doesn't even involve my company or me. I'm just building the credibility I'll need when the day comes to make my own pitch. Which is probably why, today, I know people in top positions at almost every major business magazine in the country.

I've had fellow CEOs who view, say, the Wall Street Journal or Forbes as impenetrable institutions; they shake their head in wonderment at how over and over again, no matter where I'm at or what organization I represent, I never fail to get press. The answer is that I understand and give them what they need: great stories.

However, I've also had a lot of help. Once I had developed YaYa's unique point of view, for example, I brought it to the ad agencies. It was interactive agency KPE that brought YaYa and advergaming to market. They were the agency to "discover" us and what we were doing. And then the big games companies got involved. I went to the most progressive guys I knew, people like Bobby Kotick, the CEO of Activision who, in a partnership with the Nielsen Company, put his company's influence and money behind measuring how effective games were as a medium for advertisers. Bobby and I would be on CNN or CNBC back-toback plugging each other's ideas.

"Keith, what's your secret? Bribes, blackmail—come on, just tell me," one CEO friend jokingly asked after YaYa appeared in a major spread in Fortune, while his own company, which was four times larger than YaYa, and several years older, had barely made it into its own newsletter.

So I told him: "Create a story about your company and the ideas it embodies that readers will care about. That's your content. Then share it. Have you ever picked up the phone and actually talked to a reporter about why you think what you do is so special? You cannot outsource this to PR; journalists deal with thousands of PR people a day. Who's going to be more passionate and more informed than you? You're the expert on what you do."

They Can't Outsource Content Creators

We've seen how content helped transform a company into a recognizable brand. But what if YOU are the brand? What's your content? What hooks are you selling? The same process we used to figure out how to make YaYa interesting to the marketplace can be applied to making you interesting to your network and beyond.

A unique point of view is one of the only ways to ensure that today, tomorrow, and a year from now you'll have a job.

It used to be that two arms, two legs, and an MBA were a oneway ticket to the executive office. That's barely the price of entry these days. In America's information economy, we frame our competitive advantage in terms of knowledge and innovation. That means today's market values creativity over mere competence and expertise over general knowledge. If what you do can be done by anyone, there will always be someone willing to do it for less. Witness all those jobs moving offshore to Bangladesh and Bangalore. The one thing no one has figured out how to outsource is the creation of ideas. You can't replace people who day in and day out offer the kind of content or unique ways of thinking that promise their company an edge.

Content creators have always been in high demand. They get promotions. They're responsible for the Big Ideas. They're regularly asked to speak at conferences and are featured in newspapers and magazines. Everyone within their company—and many within their industry—knows their name. They are the celebrities of their little worlds, and their fame comes from always seeming to be one step ahead.

So how did they get that way? The easiest route is by expertise. As I look back on my career, the recipe seems straightforward:

I'd latch on to the latest, most cutting-edge idea in the business world. I'd immerse myself in it, getting to know all the thought leaders pushing the idea and all the literature available. I'd then distill that into a message about the idea's broader impact to others and how it could be applied in the industry I worked in. That was the content. Becoming an expert was the easy part. I simply did what experts do: I taught, wrote, and spoke about my expertise.

At ICI, my first job after college, I talked my way into a management-training program by convincing the interviewer to take on a liberal arts major as an experiment. Every trainee who had ever been hired prior to that had some fancy degree in chemical engineering, material sciences, or something technical like that.

There was no way I was going to advance at ICI based on my engineering expertise. In my first few months of the program, however, I noticed that Total Quality Management was all the rage, one of those consultant-driven business trends that light the business world on fire every few years.

In my free time, I studied all the texts that were available. A few months into my job, I volunteered my "expertise," citing my background in organizational behavior (from my total of two undergraduate courses I had taken!). With one stroke, I became one of ICI's three go-to guys when it came to TQM. The thing is, I only really became an expert once I started trying to teach the discipline within the company. I would go on to parlay my experience into giving speeches, writing articles, and connecting with some of the top business minds in the country. After a short period, I even persuaded the industrial giant ICI to craft a new position for me within a newly forming group as one of the leaders of TQM in North America.

There's no better way to learn something, and become an expert at it, than to have to teach it. Some of the best CEOs I know refuse to turn away business even when it might call for skills or experience that their company doesn't have. These CEOs see such a scenario as an opportunity. "We can do that," they'll say. In the process, both the CEO and their employees learn skills they need. They jump at trying something new and they get the job done. In fact, after reading this book, there's no reason you couldn't put together a course on relationship building or content creation at your local community college. You'll learn in preparation, and gain even more interacting with students.

In short, forget your job title and forget your job description (for the moment, at least). Starting today, you've got to figure out what exceptional expertise you're going to master that will provide real value to your network and your company.

How do you start?

Well, there's the easy way and then there's the hard way, and I've done both. As I did at ICI and Deloitte, you can find someone who has already connected the dots and become an expert of their content. That's the easy way.

The hard way is connecting the dots on your own. The bad news is there's no concrete blueprint or step-by-step guide for this process. The good news is that creating content is not an act of divine inspiration or something reserved for the brilliant. Though I imagine both brilliance and inspiration could come in handy, I don't claim either in abundance. Instead, I've relied on some guidelines, a few habits, and a couple of techniques that have proven wonderfully useful.

Here are ten tips on helping you on your way toward becoming an expert:

1. Get out in front and analyze the trends and opportunities on the cutting edge.

Foresight gives you and your company the flexibility to adapt to change. Creativity allows you to take advantage of it. Today, where innovation has become more important than production, not moving forward means going backward. Early adaptors, trendspotters, knowledge brokers, change agents, and all those who know where their industry is heading and what next big ideas are coming down the pike have become the stars of the business world.

Identify the people in your industries who always seem to be out in front, and use all the relationship skills you've acquired to connect with them. Take them to lunch. Read their newsletters. In fact, read everything you can. Online, there are hundreds of individuals distilling information, analyzing it, and making prognostications. These armchair analysts are the eyes and ears of innovation. Now get online and read, read, read. Subscribe to magazines, buy books, and talk to the smartest people you can find. Eventually, all this knowledge will build on itself, and you'll start making connections others aren't.

2. Ask seemingly stupid questions.

If you ask questions that are like no other, you get results that are unlike any that the world has seen. How many people have the courage to ask those questions? The answer: all the people responsible for the greatest innovations. "Don't you think having all your MP3s on a little Walkman-like device would be cool?" Thus, the iPod. "Why can't we view our pictures immediately?" Thus, the instant photographic industry. "People sure like burgers and fries. Why not give it to them quickly?" Thus, McDonald's and the fastfood industry.

The power of innocence in business is wonderfully depicted in a scene from the movie Big, where Tom Hanks plays a kid transformed into an adult. In one poignant moment, Hanks is sitting in on an executive meeting at a major toy company, and one vice president is PowerPointing his way through a presentation about a new toy. All the numbers work. All the graphs point to a successful product launch. And yet Hanks's childlike innocence prompts him to say, "I don't get it." In actually playing with the toy, as he had, all the graphs and numbers didn't matter: The toy simply wasn't fun. Sometimes the numbers do lie. Sometimes all the PowerPoint presentations in the world won't provide cover for a company that has forgotten to ask the most basic of questions.

For years, the people running the companies that produced games believed they were in the entertainment business. I asked, "What if we're really in the marketing business?"

3. Know yourself and your talents.

I had no chance competing with the science geeks at ICI. In developing an expertise that highlighted my strengths, I was able to overcome my weaknesses. The trick is not to work obsessively on the skills and talents you lack, but to focus and cultivate your strengths so that your weaknesses matter less. I'd apply the 80/20 rule in that you should spend some time getting better at your weaknesses but really focus on building your strengths.

4. Always learn.

You have to learn more to earn more. All content-creators are readers or at least deep questioners or conversationalists. They're also sticklers when it comes to self-development. Your program of self-development should include reading books and magazines, listening to educational tapes, attending three to five conferences a year, taking a course or two, and developing relationships with the leaders in your field.

5. Stay healthy.

Research has discovered that at midafternoon, due to sleep deprivation, the average corporate executive today has the alertness level of a seventy-year-old. You think that executive is being creative or connecting the dots? Not a chance. Sounds hokey, but you have to take care of yourself—your body, mind, and spirit—to be at your best. As hectic as my schedule can get, I never miss a workout (five times a week). I try to take a five-day vacation every other month (I do check e-mails and catch up on reading). I go on a spirituality retreat once a month, even if it's a one-day local meditation retreat. And I do something spiritual each week—usually church. That gives me energy to allow me to keep my otherwise twenty-four-hour schedule.

6. Expose yourself to unusual experiences.

When management guru Peter Drucker was asked for one thing that would make a person better in business, he responded, "Learn to play the violin." Different experiences give rise to different tools. Find out what your kids are interested in and why. Stimulate your creativity. Learn about things that are out of the mainstream. Travel to weird and exotic places. Knowing one's own industry and one's native markets is not enough to compete in the future. Take a deep and boundless curiosity about things outside your own profession and comfort zone.

7. Don't get discouraged.

My first e-mail to the CEO of ICI regarding TQM was never returned. To this day, I face rejection on a regular basis. If you're going to be creative, cutting edge, out of the mainstream, you'd better get used to rockin' the boat. And guess what—when you're rockin' the boat, there will always be people who will try and push you off. That's the bet you have to take. Deeply committed professionals need to know the score: Passion keeps you going through the rough times come hell or high water, and both will come. There will be continual changes and challenges requiring you to be persistent and committed. Focus on the results and keep your eyes open for what is happening on the edges of your industry.

8. Know the new technology.

No industry moves quicker or places more emphasis on innovation. You don't need to be a "techno geek," but you do need to understand the impact of technology on your business and be able to leverage it to your benefit. Adopt a techno geek, or at least hire or sire one.

9. Develop a niche.

Successful small businesses that gain renown establish themselves within a carefully selected market niche that they can realistically hope to dominate. Individuals can do the same thing. Think of several areas where your company underperforms and choose to focus on the one area that is least attended to.

A former mentee of mine, for example, works for a growing start-up that offers a new kind of pet product. Not long after he was hired, he noted that one of the countless issues the start-up was struggling with was pricey postal rates that were cutting into the company's margins. Frankly, that's not the kind of issue that registers very high up on the totem pole of priorities for a startup, but then again, this mentee wasn't very high up either.

He took it upon himself to research the problem by calling the official responsible for small business at UPS, FedEx, and others. A few weeks later, he sent a detailed memo to the CEO about how the company could reduce its postal costs. The CEO was delighted. The mentee's niche expertise in mail branded the young man as a valuable up-and-comer in the company, and these days, he's developing expertise in issues much farther up the totem pole.

10. Follow the money.

Creativity is worthless if it can't be applied. The bottom line for your content has to be: This will make us more money. The lifeblood of any company is sales and cash flow. All great ideas are meaningless in business until someone pays for it.

Known as a world leader, holy man, diplomat, hero, and the Tibetan G h a n d i , the Dalai Lama simply prefers to be recognized as "a simple Buddhist monk—no more, no less."

On his great ascent toward wo r ld renown ever since his escape from his homeland in Tibet—fleeing the occupying armies of China in the late 1950s—this unique national figure has captured the public imagination, raised millions of dollars, and rallied celebrities, politicians, and laymen alike to his cause of reclaiming his homeland.

W h a t can the aspiring connector learn from this deeply modest man?

The answer: Powerful content communicated in a compelling story can energize your network to help you achieve your mission.

Because here's the thing with the spiritual leader of the Tibetan people: Folks give him money, love, and support even though he's peddling neither product nor service. Folks pay him, big time, even though he makes no promises about a bountiful return on investment. Folks pay just to hear him speak about life in general, or the struggles of Tibet, his non-nation nation.

You may have thought that a degree in business, or better yet an MBA, was needed to become a leader or person with content. Not true. The Dalai Lama doesn't have a single degree. He does, however, deliver a simple but profound message of wo r ld peace and compassion packaged in colorful stories and anecdotes—a message that earned him the Nobel Peace Prize in 1 9 8 9 .

N o w you might be thinking: " W a i t a minute. There's no w a y you can compare my white-collar pursuit to connect—and the stories I'd be telling to w i n friends and influence people—to the stories that the Dalai Lama has to share. I eat three meals a day. He's been without a country since the Fifties."

And you'd be correct. Your story won't be as compelling as his. But your storyte///ng can be. Here's how:

In telling a gripping story, the Dalai Lama understands that the message must be both simple and universal. Journalist Chris Colin, in speculating w h y the Dalai Lama's cause is so popular, wrote, "Perhaps the clarity of the atrocity resonates in the West, where few international disputes seem so cut and dried . . . Here, in a nation nostalgic for the seemingly black-and-white struggles of the comparatively simpler past, the 'Free Tibet' cause has w i n g s . "

Though he is one of the most learned scholars of one of the most complex of all the world's philosophies, the Dalai Lama is sure not only to present his cause in a clear, simple-to-understand vision, but he also goes to great lengths to show how the cause relates to us all.

The most gripping stories are those concerning identity—who we are, where we've come from, and where we are g o i n g . They tap into something common to all people. The Dalai Lama tells us that to be concerned with the Tibetan people is to be concerned with yourself. "The more we care for the happiness of others," he says, "the greater our own sense of well-being becomes." In this way, he shows how the basic concerns of all people—happiness based on contentment, appeasement of suffering, and the forging of meaningful relationships—can act as the foundation for universal ethics in today's w o r l d . Thus, he appeals to his cause by appealing to everyone's cause.

That doesn't mean your business, your resume, or whatever content you're trying to pitch has to actually be oversimplified or overly universal. But you should figure out how to spin your yarn in a fashion that a) is simple to understand, and b) everybody can relate to. Another w a y to think about this is to ask yourself, " H o w does my content help others answer w h o they are, where they are from, and where they are going?"

On some level, it's still baffling w h y anyone gives money to the Tibetan cause. For the Tibetan cause, arguably, is a lost one; after four decades, China still shows no signs of reversing itself.

And still, the Dalai Lama persuades people to donate their money and energy. How does he do it? One thing he does is use facts and historical examples within his stories to stoke our passions. He does not, as a businessperson might do with graphs and analysis, attempt to logically convince us of his position. He makes us feel his position. For example, check out this Q & A , from a 1 9 9 7 interview in Mother Jones:

Q: W h a t do you think it will take for China to change its policy toward Tibet?

Dalai Lama: It will take two things: first, a Chinese leadership that looks forward instead of b a c k w a r d , that looks toward integration with the world and cares about both wo r ld opinion and the will of [China's] own democracy movement; second, a group of world leaders that listens to the concerns of their own people with regard to Tibet, and speaks firmly to the Chinese about the urgent need of working out a solution based on truth and justice. We do not have these two things today, and so the process of bringing peace to Tibet is stalled. But we must not lose our trust in the power of truth. Everything is always changing in the w o r l d . Look at South Africa, the former Soviet Union, and the M i d d l e East. They still have many problems, setbacks as well as breakthroughs, but basically changes have happened that were considered unthinkable a decade ago.

What truly moves us as human beings, what prompts us into action, is emotion. Despite the odds, the Dalai Lama makes us believe that the seemingly impossible is, in fact, possible. In your own stories, use emotion to convince your doubters that underdogs sometimes win and Goliaths sometimes crumble.

Follow the example of this simple Buddhist monk who channels his charm and warmth into compelling stories that energize a diverse swath of people into action. In this new era of brands, in an economy that values emotions over numbers, storytellers will have the edge. As Michael Hattersley wrote in a Harvard Business Review article, "Too often, we make the mistake of thinking of business as a matter of pure rational calculation, something that in a few years computers will handle better than humans. One hears this in conference room and corridor: 'What do the numbers indicate?" Just give me the facts."Let's weigh the evidence and make the right decision.'And yet, truth to tell, few talents are more important to managerial success than knowing how to tell a good story."

So forget bullet points and slide shows. When you've figured out what your content is, tell an inspiring story that will propel your friends and associates into action with spirit and fearlessness, motivated and mobilized by your simple but profound storytelling.

23. Build Your Brand

As a marketing professional, I'm keenly aware that perception drives reality and that we are all, in some sense, brands. I know how all my choices—what I wear, my conversational style, my hobbies—fashion a distinctive identity.

Image and identity have become increasingly important in our new economic order. With the digital sea swelling in sameness and overwhelmed in information, a powerful brand—built not on a product but on a personal message—has become a competitive advantage.

Your content will become the guiding star of your brand, helping to integrate all your connecting efforts around a uniform and powerful mission. Good personal brands do three highly significant things for your network of contacts: They provide a credible, distinctive, and trustworthy identity. They project a compelling message. They attract more and more people to you and your cause, as you'll stand out in an increasing cluttered world. As a result, you will find it easier than ever to win new friends and have more of a say in what you do and where you work.

If I were to say, "Swoosh," what comes to mind? I'd be shocked if most people didn't respond, "Nike." After exposing consumers to the Nike swoosh for two decades, and infusing the symbol with all the athletic grandeur we now associate with the symbol, the company has trained us to think "Nike" whenever we see that simple little symbol.

Powerful stuff, don't you think?

Within a network, your brand can do something similar. It establishes your worth. It takes your mission and content and broadcasts it to the world. It articulates what you have to offer, why you're unique, and gives a distinct reason for others to connect with you.

Branding guru and all-star business consultant Tom Peters instructs in his customary bravado to "create your own microequivalent of the Nike swoosh." He wants to bring Madison Avenue to your cubicle, holding out the branding success of Michael Jordan and Oprah Winfrey as a template for every Willy Lohman wanting to become Willy Gates.

How have we gone from pitching products to pitching ourselves?

Peters insists that we live in a "World Turned Upside Down." The conventions of the past are meaningless. Rules are irrelevant. The lines have blurred between new and old economy, Hollywood, huge corporations, and simply huge incorporated individuals.

It's what Peters calls the "white-collar revolution." A confluence of factors—including a streamlining of business processes, technology that replaces jobs, an increase in outsourcing to foreign countries, and an age of entrepreneurialism where more and more people see themselves as free agents—are combining in such a way that Peters predicts over 90 percent of all white-collar jobs will be radically different or won't exist at all in ten to fifteen years. He says, "You must think of your job, your department, your division as a self-contained'Inc.'You must do WOW projects."

In terms of branding, then, the bottom line for everyone comes down to a choice: to be distinct or extinct.

"I'm sick to death of hearing, 'I'd like to, but they won't let me,'" Peters preaches, hitting his iconoclastic stride. "Be the CEO of your own life. Raise hell. Let the chips fall where they may. It'll never be easier to change jobs than it is today." Yes! Yes! Yes!

Few things infuriate me more than when people say they're helpless, or even indifferent, to distinguishing themselves from their peers and colleagues. I remember giving advice to an extremely smart young guy named Kevin, who was working at the consultancy PriceWaterhouseCoopers. In the course of our discussion, he told me he wasn't happy with what he was doing or how his career was playing out. He was, he told me, just another anonymous number cruncher with no alternatives given the staid environment there.

"Wrong!" I told him. "You have alternatives, you're just not creating them for yourself. You have to start taking ownership of managing your career. You have to start making an effort to change your brand from anonymous number cruncher to slightly famous difference maker."

When I made some suggestions on how he might go about doing this, he said, "That sort of thing can't be done at a big consulting company." I thought my head was going to explode. I think he probably thought so, too.

"Kevin, that's just self-defeating crap. From the first day I joined Deloitte—that's a pretty large consulting firm, right?—I went out of my way to take on projects no one wanted and initiated projects no one had thought of doing. I e-mailed my boss, and sometimes my boss's boss, ideas. And I did it almost every day. What was the worst thing that could happen? I'd get fired from a job I didn't like anyway. Alternatively, I'd make the effort to create the job—regardless of where it was—that I thought would make me happy."

FerrazziGreenlight's training-and-development division does a lot of training at professional schools and new-hire training for big companies. In our training, we try again and again to hammer home the message that your career is yours and yours alone to manage. Every job I've ever had, I've made an effort to brand myself as an innovator, a thinker, a salesman, and someone who could get stuff done. When I was just a management trainee at ICI, my first job out of college, I sent a set of recommendations to the CEO. So he never responded. But I never stopped sending those e-mails.

It's just silly to think you can't impact people's personal and professional expectations of who you are. By making the effort, you can break the glass ceiling by expanding people's view of your capability.

Peters tells his own story of an airline stewardess who suggested that her airline put one olive in their martinis rather than two. The suggestion went on to save the company over $40,000 a year and the stewardess was—instantly—branded. Today, she's probably a vice president.

The novelist Milan Kundera once reflected that flirting is the promise of sex with no guarantee. A successful brand, then, is the promise and guarantee of a mind-shattering experience each and every time. It's the e-mail you always read because of who it's from. It's the employee who always gets the cool projects.

To become a brand, you've got to become relentlessly focused on what you do that adds value. And I promise you can add value to whatever job you're doing now. Can you do what you do faster and more efficiently? If so, why not document what it would take to do so and offer it to your boss as something all employees might do? Do you initiate new projects on your own and in your spare time? Do you search out ways to save or make your company more money?

You can't do all that if you're solely concerned with minimizing risk, respecting the chain of command, and following your job description to the letter. There's no room for yes-men in this pursuit. Those with the gumption to make their work special will be the ones to establish a thriving brand.

You can't do meaningful work that makes a difference unless you're devoted to learning, growing, and stretching your skills. If you want others to redefine what you do and who you are within organizational boundaries, then you have to be able to redefine yourself. That means going above and beyond what's called for. It means seeing your resume as a dynamic, changing document every year. It means using your contacts inside and outside your network to deliver each project you're assigned with inspired performance. Peters calls this the pursuit of WOW in everything you do.

There are a whole lot of road maps out there these days to selfincorporated wow-ness. But the maps often rely more on intuition than navigation. The key generally comes down to a few simple things: Shake things up! Find your value! Obsess on your image! Turn everything into an opportunity to build your brand.

So how do you create an identity for a brilliant career? How do you become the swoosh of your company? Of your network? Here are three steps to get you on the road to becoming the next Oprah Winfrey:

Develop a Personal Branding Message (PBM)

A brand is nothing less than everything everyone thinks of when they see or hear your name. The best brands, like the most interesting people, have a distinct message.

Your PBM comes from your content/unique value proposition, as we discussed in the last chapter, and a process of selfevaluation. It involves finding out what's really in a name—your name. It calls for you to identify your uniqueness and how you can put that uniqueness to work. It's not a specific task so much as the cultivation of a mind-set.

What do you want people to think when they hear or read your name? What product or service can you best provide? Take your skills, combine them with your passions, and find out where in the market, or within your own company, they can best be applied.

Your message is always an offshoot of your mission and your content. After you've sat down and figured out who you want to be, and you've written goals in some version of ninety-day, threeyear, and ten-year increments, you can build a brand perception that supports all this.

Your positioning message should include a list of words that you want people to use when referring to you. Writing those words down are a big first step in having others believe them. Ask your most trusted friends what words they would use to describe you, for good and for bad. Ask them what are the most important skills and attributes you bring to the table.

When I was once hungry to become chief executive officer at a Fortune 500 company, my PBM read as follows: "Keith Ferrazzi is defined as one of the most innovative and bottom line-focused marketers and CEOs in the world. His string of dramatic 'firsts' have followed every position he has held. His passion gives off a light that he carries wherever he goes."

Package the Brand

Most people's judgments and impressions are based on visuals— everything other than the words you speak that communicates to others what you're about. For everyone in every field—let's be real—looks count, so you'd better look polished and professional.

There is one general, overarching caveat in this step: Stand out! Style matters. Whether you like it or not, clothing, letterheads, hairstyles, business cards, office space, and conversational style are noticed—big time. The design of your brand is critical. Buy some new clothes. Take an honest look at how you present yourself. Ask others how they see you. How do you wish to be seen?

The bottom line is you have to craft an appearance to the outside world that will enhance the impression you want to make. "Everyone sees what you appear to be," observed Machiavelli, "few really know what you are."

When I was younger, I used to wear bow ties. I felt that it was a signature that people would not quickly forget, and it worked. "You were the guy who spoke at the conference last year wearing the bow tie," I'd hear over and over again. Over time, I was able to give up that signature, as my message and delivery became my brand and I didn't think the bow tie corresponded to my evolving image of someone on the cutting edge of ideas.

Why not create a personal Web site? A Web site is a terrific and cheap marketing tool for your brand, and a great way to force you to clearly articulate who you are. With a good-looking site, you look as polished and professional as any major corporation on the Internet.

This may sound trivial, but it's not. Little choices make big impressions.

Broadcast Your Brand

You've got to become your own PR firm, as I'll talk about in the next chapter. Take on the projects no one wants at work. Never ask for more pay until after you've been doing the job successfully and become invaluable. Get on convention panels. Write articles for trade journals and company newsletters. Send e-mails filled with creative ideas to your CEO. Design your own Me, Inc. brochure.

The world is your stage. Your message is your "play." The character you portray is your brand. Look the part; live the part.

24. Broadcast Your Brand

Now you have your "content," and the beginnings of a brand. You're getting good, really good. That's how you've become an authority in your company. But your job is not done. If the rest of the world isn't familiar with how good you are, you and your company are only gaining part of the benefit. The fact is, you've got to extend your reach and level of outside recognition. That's how you'll become an authority not just in your company but in your industry. It comes in part from visibility. I'm not suggesting you stand on your local street corner with a sign on a sandwich board exclaiming, "Put me on TV!" Though come to think of i t . . . well, let's hold off for now. I've got some suggestions on high-stakes self-promotion that will make your effort becoming known a little bit easier, sans the public embarrassment. And I'm no stranger to embarrassment. I've taken a few knocks to learn the right and wrong ways to let others know about what I do.

You don't have to look far to see why increased visibility might be important for your career, and for extending your network of colleagues and friends. Take, for example, self-promoting phenom Donald Trump. How many other real estate moguls do you know offhand? Right—I can't name anyone else either. Why is the "The Donald" considered the ultimate dealmaker? Probably because he's called himself that a million times over in any number of articles and television interviews and now a highly rated TV show. Because he has a book entitled The Art of the Deal.

But his self-promotion is not just ego (though by how much, I'm not quite sure); it makes plenty of business sense, too. His buzz-worthy brand now has a value unto itself. Buildings with his name on it are more valuable and bring in higher rental fees. When The Donald went bankrupt, banks that would have otherwise foreclosed on any other struggling mogul gave Trump leeway, not only because they knew he was good at what he did but because they knew his name alone would go a long way in helping him recover from his setbacks. Trump is a talented developer, but then so are a lot of other people. The difference? He promotes himself.

The fact is that those people who are known beyond the walls of their own cubicle have a greater value. They find jobs more easily. They usually rise up the corporate ladder faster. Their networks begin to grow without much heavy lifting.

I can hear the groans of discomfort already stirring. You may be thinking, "I'm shy. I don't like to talk about myself. Isn't modesty a virtue?" Well, I can assure you that if you hide your accomplishments, they'll remain hidden. If you don't promote yourself, however graciously, no one else will.

Like it or not, your success is determined as much by how well others know your work as by the quality of your work. Luckily, there are hundreds of new channels and mediums for you to get the word out.

So how do you promote Brand You?

Every day, you read or hear about companies in newspapers, magazines, on television, and on the Web. Most of the time the article or story is about celebrity CEOs and big companies. It's not because they are more deserving of the press than you or me. It's the result of well-planned and strategic public relations. Big companies have PR machines working for them to shape and control their image (though not always successfully).

Smaller companies and individuals have to do it themselves. But by using some pluck and a strategy of your own, access to the media is not as difficult as you may think. Journalists do less sleuthing for their stories than you'd imagine. They get a majority of their stories from people that have sought them out, and not the other way around. And like everyone else in any profession, they tend to follow the herd. Which means once you get written about, other reporters will come calling. Assigned you as a subject, they'll do a quick Google search, and presto: They'll find you are an already cited source and will seek you out to cite you again.

One article creates visibility, which in turn will put you in front of other journalists, creating the possibility of more articles and visibility. A journalist's deadlines make magazine and newspaper work the art of the possible, not the perfect.

The key is to view the exposure of your brand as a PR campaign. How are you going to get your message out there? How are you going to make sure that the message gets out the way you want it to get out? Sure, your network is a good start. Everyone you meet and everyone you talk to should know what you do, why you're doing it, and how you can do it for him or her. But why not broadcast that same message to a thousand networks across the country?

Now we're talking.

As I mentioned before, when I became CEO of YaYa, it was a company with virtually no revenue, and clearly no recognized market. We had visionary founders, Jeremy Milken and Seth Gerson, but we needed a market.

There was, however, one company with a similar product. I'm going to call them Big Boy Software. They had created a software tool that facilitated the actual creation of high-end games. They too were trying to find their business model and generate revenue. Both of us were in a race to become the established brand in the new market we were creating.

Soon after we defined the advergaming space, Big Boy saw how YaYa was picking up steam (and generating operating revenue) selling games to big brands. They followed suit, positioning themselves as competitors to YaYa. The main difference between them and us was that they had way, way more money. They had raised a huge amount of capital that put our resources to shame. There is no need to go into the comparative details of who was a better company (I'm a little biased, of course). But the fact remains, they had tons of resources and we did not—at all.

So how did YaYa become the market leader?

The answer is, we created buzz: that powerful, widespread phenomenon that can determine the future of individuals, companies, and movies alike. Buzz is the riddle every enterprising person is trying to solve. It's a grassroots, word-of-mouth force that can turn a low-budget flick about a witch into a multimillion-dollar blockbuster. (Ever hear of The Blair Witch Project?) You feel its energy in Internet chat rooms, at the gym, on the street, and all of it is stoked by a media hungry for the inside scoop. Buzz is marketing on steroids.

Here's an example of how well it works: Remember Napster? One day it was a clever software idea hatched in some kid's dorm room allowing users online to link up and share MP3 music files. Six months later, it was a Silicon Valley start-up, the source of a major lawsuit, playing bandwidth havoc with servers around the country. Even when it was shut down, the name had enough buzz to be bought for something like $50 million.

Advertising or a life-empowering endorsement by Oprah had nothing to do with it. Napster was, well, cool. And as a result of buzz, it was very famous.

As a marketer, over the years, I have developed an idea of how buzz is created. One way is to generate what I call "catalytic moments." When you watch a big football game, have you noticed how the tide of a game will suddently turn in favor of one team or the other? It starts with a huge play, and in many cases is followed by more key plays. Buzz is like that. It needs a situation, a pivotal moment, an inside scoop, a crazy giveaway—something that will get the crowd whispering. Unfortunately, YaYa was too young and poor for such a strategy.

Another way is to report compelling news by leveraging the power of the media to get your brand sizzling. The Jesse Ventura for Governor of Minnesota campaign is a perfect example. Significantly outspent by two major competitors, Ventura gained valuable media exposure by persuading the media to report on things like his creative use of advertising and a G.I. Joe-like action figure. Similarly, I look for compelling stories that create buzz within the news media.

That's where feeding the "infiuentials" comes into play. Infiuentials are what marketing wonks call those people who can ignite brand buzz. They are the small segment of the population that will adopt a cool product early on and infect everyone else with the bug. They are also the celebrities and experts whose word is gospel. It's imperative that you identify those people and get your brand in front of them.

I mentioned the KPE agency before. They were just what I was looking for. An interactive marketing and technology consultancy on the cutting edge, KPE had taken an early interest in the new space we were creating. They were a recognized name among Fortune 1000 companies known for spotting the newest trends. Happily, their head of strategy was Matt Ringel, whom I had gotten to know from our mutual interest in the nonprofit devoted to preserving objects and places of historical significance, called "Save American Treasures."

I reached out to Matt and proposed that he lead an effort to write an article introducing this space to the market. I knew that a white paper (research documents that consulting companies put out on hot topics of the day) introducing us and the technology from an unbiased perspective would be far more effective and lead to more credibility than anything we could do ourselves. I worked with Matt and his right hand, Jane Chen, for weeks on the paper, giving them examples from YaYa, getting clients to speak with them, introducing methodologies and insights that we had gained through our experience. I had gone to analysts before this who were interested in the space and were now willing to speak to Matt about what we were doing as well.

I was giving KPE another opportunity to look cutting edge and take a leadership position in the space, while in return, just by dint of the access I was giving KPE, I bet that YaYa would be the primary example in the case study. Great things came from the article, including the new name for the space, which we called (thanks to the creativity of Jane Chen) "Advergaming." The name alone had buzz.

One lesson we learned from the experience is that your PR campaign has to be realistic. More often than not, you will have to start small. You'll be forced to focus on your local paper, high school and college newsletters, or industry trade journals. Or perhaps just a white paper listed on some consulting company's Web site. The point is to light the fire.

When the white paper was completed, it received amazing publicity thanks to KPE's PR engine (which, unlike us, they could afford), and we indeed came out as the instant leader of the space. As an interesting side note, I subsequently recruited both Matt and Jane into YaYa (I wanted the founders of advergaming in my organization).

It took less than a year for us to appear on the cover of BrandWeek, in the marketplace section of the Wall Street Journal, in the technology section of the New York Times, in a feature for Forbes... the list goes on. I was consistently on every panel with the competition (generally I was invited for free while "the boys" paid for the opportunity). While money can certainly be a substitute for good PR, it's hard to have enough of it to offset the credibility one gets from just one article in Forbes or the New York Times.

The competition, on the other hand, got little press and failed to create a distinct message. It all goes back to your content. Once you have it, you can begin to mold it in a way that will capture attention. You need to impart a sense of urgency and make the message timely. Reporters continually ask, "But why is it important NOW?" If you can't answer that sufficiently, your article will wait.

In YaYa's case, I highlighted how the games industry is the fastest-growing segment of the entertainment business and how surprisingly no one had figured out how to tap into that growth for anything other than pure fun and leisure. That isn't always enough. I had written a piece for the Wall Street Journal's weekly column called the Manager's Journal. The editor liked the piece but kept pushing it back so he could publish other pieces that were timelier. So I began to rewrite the intros to my piece each week, to relate to something that was in the news at the time. In short order, the article finally saw the light of day.

Once you light a fire and get the buzz going, you want to get your story in front of journalists. The misconception is that you have to "work" the press. But overeager PR professionals, who don't know the meaning of "No," are working reporters hourly. Journalists get fed up with people who are nitwits and pitch articles without substance. The media is like any other business. They have a job to do. If you can help them do their job better, or easier, they're going to love you.

You have to start today building relationships with the media before you have a story you'd like them to write. Send them information. Meet them for coffee. Call regularly to stay in touch. Give them inside scoops on your industry. Establish yourself as a willing and accessible source of information, and offer to be interviewed for print, radio, or TV. Never say, "No comment."

To illustrate: I remember the first time I, as the newly minted project leader of Deloitte's reengineering efforts, sat with one of Fortune's top journalists, Tom Stewart. My PR firm introduced Tom and me, and I came ready to impress. I had read every piece he had written in the last five years. I playfully gibed him about obscure predictions he had made years ago in other articles, and was prepared to thoughtfully discuss his most recent column. I wanted to be as useful as possible, giving him access to trends, ideas, and all the contacts at my disposal. I did the same thing for other journalists at other major newspapers and magazines.

Tom and I had a blast. Tom's energy and intellectual curiosity was contagious. I suppose I had something to offer him as well, because he readily took my next lunch offer and the next after that.

It was more than just mutual admiration. I was prepared to act, sound, and feel like an expert. When I didn't know something, I was sure to pass him on to the person who did. If you are constantly apologizing with "Well, I am not the expert," people will believe you and wonder why you wasted their time.

I never did ask Tom for anything in particular. We'd meet a few times a year and I'd try to be as helpful as possible. Sure, I remember the first time I saw one of my ideas in his column months after we had discussed it, and lo and behold, a competitor firm was quoted rather than Deloitte. I went through the roof. My instinct was to call him immediately and express my unhappiness. But, instead, I held back and simply invited him for another lunch.

Is such a thing too time-consuming? Not if you're convinced it behooves your company's efforts and if you enjoy the interaction. When I was at Deloitte and would show up on TV, I was Deloitte. When I was in Forbes, it was the company that reaped the benefits in business development.

Over time, the hours you put in developing relationships with journalists will pay off, as it did for me with Tom, both personally and professionally. Deloitte's name eventually started to pop up with increasing frequency in the pages of Fortune, because our stories were being heard by someone who could retell them. I never asked Tom for an article, but giving him good ideas in our lunches certainly didn't hurt. Today, Tom is the editor-in-chief of the Harvard Business Review, and I'm planning to take him to lunch soon to hear out a few more ideas. Remember, though, you can't force-feed or pressure a good journalist. Any attempt to do so will surely end your professional relationship. The best journalists are almost always also the most ethical.

In traversing the media landscape, be aware that there are also some land mines. Sometimes what media wants to write, and the story you think they should write, is a very different thing.

I learned this the hard way. One day I got a call from the wellknown reporter Hal Lancaster, who was writing a column about managing one's career for the Wall Street Journal. The story appeared Tuesday, November 19,1996.1 know the exact date because I had the article framed so I would never forget the lesson I learned.

When Hal called, I was ecstatic. He was a famous reporter for a prestigious newspaper asking about what I did. I was a relative kid at Deloitte. Well, that wasn't exactly the slant of the story, but my excitement got the best of me. Hal said he was doing a piece on the changing nature of work. He had a hypothesis that the end of the reengineering movement was having a major impact on those who had led reengineering projects and those who had been affected by the projects.

Rather than listen more closely to his angle, I tried to impress upon him what I thought the real story was about. Big mistake! If a reporter calls you, states his story and the angle he's taking, you can be sure you'll be used as an example to buttress his angle. Rare is the occasion that a journalist will hear you out and say, "Oh my God, you're right! I'm going about it all wrong." Rarely—I meant never. But back then, I thought I'd set Hal straight. He, however, ended up straightening me out.

I took a lot of time with Hal explaining how I had been on the normal partner track leading Deloitte's reengineering effort, but now that the trend was ending, I was transitioning into an exciting special project involving marketing. "I'm going to change the way traditional consulting companies market themselves."

He pushed past my excitement. "Do you feel displaced in the post-reengineering world?" he wanted to know. Sure, I conceded, there was some change involved, but certainly nothing traumatic. He wanted me to say I felt aimless. But my new gig excited me. I considered it a huge step up.

The day the story appeared, I ran to the newsstand to get the paper. There, blaring out for everyone to see, was the heading "A demotion does not have to mean the end of a fulfilling career." Right above the fold in BIG BOLD letters was my name: "Mr. Ferrazzi says the change was difficult, but he has embraced the assignment as an opportunity."

He was implying I was demoted!

I got slammed. Oh, and the ribbing I got from my boss, Pat Loconto. "So, I heard you were demoted and no one reports to you. That's terrific! It will save us tons on HR costs, starting with that raise of yours."

Be careful. Listen to the reporter when he or she says, "I'm doing a story about displaced workers .. ." No matter what YOU say, that's the story he'll write.

Now that you know a little more about the lay of the land, it's time to get yourself buzzing. Here's an action plan for creating a PR strategy for Brand You:

You Are Your Own Best PR Representative

You must manage your own media. Public relations companies are facilitators and act as leverage. I've been represented for years. The best ones can be strategic partners, but ultimately the press always wants to talk to the big guy—you, not a PR rep. Most of the biggest articles about me came from my own contacts. Yes, a PR firm can help you generate those contacts, but early in your career you won't need them and you probably won't be able to afford them.

Who better than you to tell your story with credibility and passion? Start making calls to the reporters who cover your industry. Have lunch with them. If something timely occurs around your content, send a press release. There's no secret behind press releases. They're nothing more than two or three paragraphs describing what's memorable about your story. It is that easy.

Remember, media folks are just plain fun. They tend to be interesting and smart, and they're paid to be up to speed on everything that is going on in the world. And they need you as much as you need them. They may not need your exact story at the exact time you want, but with a little stick-to-itiveness, they'll come around.

Know the Media Landscape

Nothing infuriates reporters and editors more, I'm told, than to get a pitch from someone who clearly has no idea what their publication is about or who their audience is. Remember, media is a business, and the companies who are in the media are looking for ratings or to sell more issues. The only way they can do that well is by serving their specific audience. "Listen, I'm a devoted reader of this magazine," I'll tell editors while mentioning a few recent articles I've enjoyed. "I've got a story for you that I know your audience will be interested in, as I've been thinking about it for a long time." That's not a line, either. Before I call journalists, I'll spend time reading their articles, figuring out what they cover, and what kinds of stories their publications like to run.

Work the Angles

There are no new stories, it has been said, only old stories told in new ways. To make your pitch sound fresh and original, find an innovative slant. What's your slant? Anything that screams, "Now!" Let's say you're opening a pet store. To a magazine devoted to entrepreneurs, perhaps you play up how your store is one recent example of the entrepreneurial boom in the opening of local retail stores. Suggest why this is happening and what the magazine's readers could learn. Selling it to your local newspaper is easy. What caused you to switch careers? What is particular to your situation that highlights something going on within your community? And don't forget catalytic moments. Maybe you sell a rare animal no one else does. Or maybe you plan on giving away puppies to orphans. That's something worth covering to a local or neighborhood newspaper. Get the word out.

Think Small

Are you Bill Gates? No. Maybe you've developed the antidote for the common cold? No again. Well, the New York Times probably isn't knocking on your door quite yet. Go local first. Start a database of newspapers and magazines in your area that might be interested in your content. Try college papers, the neighborhood newspaper, or the free industry digital newsletter you find in your inbox. You'll get the fire started and learn how to deal with reporters in the process.

Make a Reporter Happy

They're a rushed, impatient, always-stressed bunch of overachievers. Work at their pace and be available whenever they call on you. NEVER blow off an interview, and try to facilitate the contacts they'll need to produce a good story.

Master the Art of the Sound Bite

Tell me why I should write about you in ten seconds or less. If it takes more than ten seconds to pitch your content, a television producer will assume you won't be able to get your point of view across to an impatient audience. And a reporter might try to hustle you off the phone.

Learn to be brief—in both your written and phone pitches. Brevity is cherished in the media. Look at the evolution of the modern sound bite: Some thirty years ago, a presidential nominee was allowed an average sound bite of forty-two seconds. Today, it's somewhere under seven seconds. If the President is only getting a few seconds, how much time do you think you'll get? Think in terms of talking points. Pick the three most interesting points about your story and make them fast, make them colorful, and make them catchy.

Don't Be Annoying

There's a fine line between marketing yourself properly and becoming annoying. If a pitch of mine gets rejected, I'll ask what else it needs to make it publishable. Sometimes it will never be right in the editor's eyes, but other times, you can answer a few more questions or dig deeper and repitch the story. It is okay to be aggressive, but mind the signals, and back off when it's time.

It's All on the Record

Be cautious: What you say can hurt you, and even if you're not quoted or you say something off the record, a reporter will use your words to color the slant of the article. I'm not advocating being tight-lipped. That's what corporate communications directors get paid for, and I don't know anyone in the press who likes them. Just remember: All press is not good press, even if they spell your name right.

Trumpet the Message, Not the Messenger

There was a time when I was less aware of the difference between reputation and notoriety. Boy, there is a big difference! Early on in my career, I paid too much attention to getting attention. I was building a brand all right; but as I look back, it just wasn't the brand I wanted for myself. All your efforts at publicity, promotion, and branding need to feed into your mission; if they're only feeding into your ego, you'll find yourself with a reputation you hadn't bargained for that could hold you back for the rest of your life. I was lucky. Looking back, I merely wasted a lot of time.

Treat Journalists as You Would Any Other Member of

Your Network or Community of Friends

As in any interview, your primary objective when you meet with a member of the press is to get the person across from you to like you. The reporter is human (at least most are) and your empathy for his or her hard work will go a long way. Even when I feel like a piece did not do me justice, I thank the writer for his hard work. I'll send a short thank-you e-mail no matter the size of the publication. Journalists, by the nature of their profession, are natural networkers. Couple that with a media community that's not all that large, and you'll understand why you want these guys on your side.

Be a Name-Dropper

Connecting your story with a known entity—be it a politician, celebrity, or famous businessperson—acts as a de facto slant. Bottom line: The media wants recognizable faces in their pages. If your story will give them access to someone they otherwise haven't been able to get, they'll make concessions. Or, sometimes, you can link a celebrity to your story without really knowing the person. Leave it to the journalist to track down the star. You've done your job by giving them reason to seek her out.

You've Got to Market the Marketing

Once you've put in all that hard work and landed a nice article, it's no time to be modest. Send the article around. Give it to your alumni magazine. Update your class notes. Use the article to get even more press coverage. I'll attach a recent article about me to an e-mail and in the subject line write, "Here's another one of Ferrazzi's shameless attempts at self-promotion." Most people get a kick out of it and it keeps you on everyone's radar.

There's No Limit to the Ways You Can Go About

Enhancing Your Profile

There are literally thousands of different ways to get recognition for your expertise. Try moonlighting. See if you have the time to take on freelance projects that will bring you in touch with a whole new group of people. Or, within your own company, take on an extra project that might showcase your new skills. Teach a class or give a workshop at your own company. Sign up to be on panel discussions at a conference. Most important, remember that your circle of friends, colleagues, clients, and customers is the most powerful vehicle you've got to get the word out about what you do. What they say about you will ultimately determine the value of your brand.

25. The Write Stuff

This is one of those tricks of the networking trade that may not seem big, but boy, can it come in handy.

If you have any writing skills at all—and yes, the good news is we all have some level of skill—you can get close to almost anyone by doing a piece on them, or with them, even if it's for your local newspaper.

Me, write? I don't have a Shakespearean bone in my body, you say. Well, no one has had that bone for 500 years.

These days, with the Internet and newsstands busting at their seams with publications of every imaginable orientation, everyone can be an author. And writing articles can be a great boost for your career. It provides instant credibility and visibility. It can become a key arrow in your self-marketing quiver, creating relationships with highly respected people and helping you develop a skill that's always in high demand.

First, get over all the romantic pretensions around writing. In business school, when I was dreaming about publishing an article in the Harvard Business Review, I had a wonderful encounter with a visiting professor who had written a number of high-profile articles and books. I asked her how I, too, could become a writer.

"Write," she told me.

Brows furrowed, I nodded. When no more advice came from her esteemed mouth, I asked: "Anything else?"

"Write, then write some more. When you're done—and here's the kicker—keep writing.

"Look," she said, "there is no secret. Writing is tough. But people of all talents, at all levels, do it. The only thing necessary to become a writer is a pen, some paper, and the will to express yourself."

Bright woman. Want to write something? Write it. Want to get published? Call an editor and tell him you want to submit an article. Your first time may be a flaming failure. Nothing in life is a sure thing. But that's how people do it.

A lot of business writing is collaborative. While the hunger to be recognized is great, busy people higher up the ladder often don't have the extra time to work alone on something like an article. Instead, they choose to either contribute their expertise or work with others to get it done.

The process I've used to pull these types of things off is simple. First, what's your content? What kind of interesting things are going on in your industry or personal life? Have you learned to do what you do differently or found an easier and more efficient way of doing it?

Once you've got a hook—some subject of interest you'd like to explore that you think others will find interesting—get in touch with the editor of a publication that's likely to publish such material. You don't have to make the op-ed page of the New York Times. Community newspapers, professional newsletters, even in-house company publications have white space they need to fill. At this stage, all you're looking for is some tentative buy-in, a small show of interest that you can use to gain access to others in researching the piece. And once you get published, you've got a track record— and samples of your work that you can use to snatch more chances.

What's an editor going to say when you pitch him or her an idea? Probably something like "Sure, sounds great. Very busy. Gotta go. Let me see it when it's done." This is how editors talk and this is what they invariably say.

But now, when you call others to interview them, you're not just Joe Shmo, you're Joe Shmo calling about an article targeted for the Poughkeepsie Gazette (or something like that). And these aren't just random people you're calling, either. These are the people you've painstakingly targeted as the top experts and thinkers in the subject you're investigating.

What you've just unknowingly done, by calling these people and setting up an interview, is established a terrific environment for meeting anyone anywhere. The odds will never be stacked so clearly in your favor. The subject of conversation is something you know the other person is fascinated with. And by then, you'll have had the time to become pretty snazzy with the subject yourself. You're offering value through the publicity you'll potentially garner. And the mutual understanding that you're working together toward a common objective will make what would normally be a formal affair into something much closer. It's an opportunity to shine!

Most of the time, I like to share credit and offer a byline to the person who becomes most helpful. Explain that their insights are truly unique and impressive and that you would welcome their coauthorship. You'll do the research and writing and all they have to do is give some time and energy to the project. Then, once you begin to collaborate, ask them (or they more than likely will volunteer) to open their network to you for additional research and interviews. And just like that, you're expanding your network exponentially with contacts that otherwise might have seemed out of reach.

Guess what? By article's end, whether it's been published or not, you've managed to learn a great deal and to meet a group of important people who potentially might be important to your future. And you now have a very good reason to stay in touch with them.

26. Getting Close to Power

Newt Gingrich, the famous Republican politician and ailabout-Washington gadfly, is known to tell a story about a lion and a field mouse. A lion, he says, can use his prodigious hunting skills to capture a field mouse with relative ease anytime he wants, but at the end of the day, no matter how many mice he's ensnared, he'll still be starving.

The moral of the story: Sometimes, despite the risk and work involved, it's worth our time to go for the antelope.

Are you only connecting with field mice? If you are, start turning your attention to reaching out to the sort of important people that can make a difference in your life and the lives of others. The kind of people who can make you, and your network, sparkle.

The conscious pursuit of people with power and celebrity has a bad rap. We're taught to see it as an expression of vanity and superficiality. We regard it as a cheap and easy means of getting ahead. As a result, instead of acting on our impulses, we repress them. We buy celebrity magazines like People, Us Weekly, or, in the case of business folks, Fortune, to peer safely from a distance into a world we're so obviously hungry to know more about.

I, on the other hand, think there's absolutely nothing wrong with pursuing this world more directly. Seeking the influence of powerful people in our lives is not crass or misguided; it can be enormously helpful. Again, no one does it alone, whatever our goal or mission. We need the help of lots of others.

Why is it that we're so taken with the lives of big achievers? If we measure our accomplishments against the accomplishments of others, it stands to reason that the more accomplished the people we associate with, the greater our aspirations become.

People who fit our conventional notions of fame and celebrity often have qualities or skills that we admire. Many of these people have achieved great things through risk, passion, focus, hard work, and positive attitudes. And so many of them have overcome so much.

Of course, celebrity can mean all sorts of things to all sorts of people. I define celebrity as public recognition by a large share of a certain group. In other words, fame is a matter of context. In college, public recognition is given to tenured professors or wellknown deans. In a small midwestern town, the celebrities may be a politician, successful entrepreneur, or outspoken longtime resident. These people have a disproportionate degree of influence over the group they inhabit. That's why it has become popular to use celebrities as spokespersons for major brands. They increase awareness, create positive feelings around a company, and play an important role in convincing consumers of a product's attractiveness. Local mini-celebrities within your own group can do the same for your brand.

That's what social scientists call "power by association": It's the power that arises from being identified with influential people. You can see this phenomenon at work everywhere. Power that arises from internal associations, for example, can include personal assistants and gatekeepers who may not be very high on the ladder in terms of company hierarchy, but who are powerful simply because of their proximity and access to the chief executive officer.

External associations, such as powerful politicians, influential news reporters, mass media personalities, and so on, also help to enhance one's profile inside and outside an organization. That's why a smart start-up company, for example, will seek to populate its board of directors with recognized business personalities who can impart credibility to a new business. Certainly, having the ear of influential celebrities or journalists can mean more favorable coverage of you and your company or an unprecedented amount of coverage for your charity.

Fame breeds fame. The fact is, all my prowess for reaching out to other people would be far less effective if a few of those people in my Rolodex weren't well-known names. The hard truth is that the ones who get ahead are usually those who know how to make highly placed people feel good about having them around. Plus, they add a little magic. Real or imagined, these people have that X factor that can magnify a moment and turn a prosaic dinner party into something magnificent.

Problem is, while we're excited by the idea of meeting "celebrities," they are often not all that anxious to meet us. So how can we get close to them?

There are no easy answers. But if you pursue these people in a sincere manner, with good intentions, you're not being manipulative. And if you are emboldened by a mission and you've put in the time and hard work to establish a web of people that count on you, then the time will come when your growing influence will put you in a place where you'll be face-to-face with someone who can convey a lot of sparkle to your next dinner party. You'll get close to power simply by virtue of reaching out and following the the advice I have offered in this book.

When this does inevitably occur for you, there are a few things to keep in mind that I've learned through the years.

While I'm aware of the impact a recognized persona can have on one's network, and I'm certainly not shy about putting myself in a place where meeting such people can occur, too much fuss and adoration will kill your efforts before they begin. Folks are folks.

This came into play years ago when I was at the Vanity Fair party at the old Russian Embassy following the White House Press Corps dinner. When I was standing in line for cocktails, the man beside me seemed awfully familiar. At first, I thought he was a politician. Then I placed his face as someone who was involved in politics, but behind the scenes in some manner, one of the President's key advisors.

I was right—sort of. The man was Richard Schiff, the actor who played the communications advisor to the fictional president played by Martin Sheen in The West Wing. Out of context, I'm terrible with recognizing TV stars.

Just as casually as if he were someone I didn't know at all, I introduced myself. He paused slightly, as celebrities are apt to do before engaging with someone they don't know, and politely said hello without introducing himself.

"And you are?" I asked. When he realized I didn't know who he was immediately, he opened up. We ultimately exchanged e-mails and stayed in touch.

I've found that trust is the essential element of mixing with powerful and famous people—trust that you'll be discreet; trust that you have no ulterior motives behind your approach; trust that you'll deal with them as people and not as stars; and basically trust that you feel like a peer who deserves to be engaged as such. The first few moments of an encounter is the litmus test for such a person to size up whether he or she can trust you in these ways or not.

The irony of celebrities is that they often have very fragile egos. In many cases, something in them drove them to want to be famous. Imagine being publicly scrutinized by thousands of peopie each day! However much the world opens up to celebrities, a part of it also closes. There is a loss of privacy. And because they live in a world of adulation, celebrities struggle every day balancing their private and public personas. They often fret over the fact that their public persona becomes indistinguishable from their private personality. They feel misunderstood and underappreciated for who they really are.

To assure them that you're interested in them for themselves, rather than what the public perceives them to be, stay away from their fame and focus, instead, on their interests. You can certainly let them know that you respect their work, but don't dwell. Take them away from what they are normally barraged with.

Unfortunately, sometimes we make inappropriate exceptions when talking to exceptional people. You simply have to watch and listen with your heart as well as with your eyes. Find out what their passions are.

Not long ago, I saw the then-Governor of Vermont, Howard Dean, give a speech. It was at Renaissance Weekend and people were joking about this unknown governor of this small state and his crazy aspirations to become President. The next time I saw him speak was at a nonprofit event for human rights in D.C. By now, he was indeed running for President, although no one took him seriously.

Intrigued by Dean and his message, I approached one of the people in his campaign staff (which, at the time, was one campaign aide and a state trooper). I told the aide that I was a politically active fellow Yale alum who was interested in meeting the presidential hopeful at some point. The aide and I had a good talk and I did talk briefly with Dean, as did many other folks at the event.

Two weeks later, there Dean was again at the Gill Foundation's annual meeting in California, preparing to deliver the same talk I had heard a couple weeks before. It would be the third time I saw him speak on essentially the same subject, and I had some thoughts on how he might deliver his speech more forcefully. I caught the attention of his aide and asked if I could get a second with the governor. We found him near the podium where he was preparing minutes before he was to go on stage. I told him that I had seen his talk on a number of occasions, I had spoken with his aide, and I had some ideas for how he could deliver his speech with more impact. I suggested that he emphasize a few points here, play down a few points there, and cut down the length. Yes, I was taking some risk, but what did I have to lose? And I was very sincere in my suggestions. I cared about his message on human rights and wanted him to get it across powerfully.

As I sat in the audience, I heard one recommendation after another come to life in his speech. Holy cow! The Governor of Vermont and by now full-fledged presidential candidate (although still a really long shot) was taking my advice. After his talk, I told him how impressive the talk was and that I wanted to devote the rest of the event to introducing him to all the movers and shakers (read: big donors) within the Gill Foundation.

Months later, when I saw the governor again at a fundraising dinner party at the director Rob Reiner's home, he was no longer an obscure candidate but a popular maverick setting the tone for the entire Democratic nomination. Someone introduced the two of us. "Governor, do you know Keith Ferrazzi?" Governor Dean replied, "Of course I know Keith. He's one of the main people responsible for me getting the traction that made such a difference in the early days." And I truly felt at that moment that I had made a difference.

Just remember that famous and powerful people are first and foremost people: They're proud, sad, insecure, hopeful, and if you can help them achieve their goals, in whatever capacity, they will be appreciative. Yes, it helps to be at the right places and invited to the right events. But the fancy weekends and invite-only conferences aren't the only ways to meet important people.

In America, there is an association for everything. If you want to meet the movers and shakers directly, you have to become a joiner. It's amazing how accessible people are when we meet them at events that speak to their interests.

Here are a few more places that I've found particularly rewarding when looking to find people on the rise or who have already risen:

Young Presidents' Organization (YPO)

This organization is for executive managers under the age of forty-four and has regional chapters across the United States. If you're running a business, or want to, there are plenty of entrepreneurial organizations that will put you in front of the corporate chieftains of tomorrow. Similar professional organizations exist for the entire range of vocational pursuits. Graphic artists, lawyers, computer programmers, and garbage collectors—like every other occupation—have a union or group that serves as an advocate for their interests. There is strength in numbers, and when you join such a group, and become a central figure in that group's activities, you'll become someone whom other powerful people will seek to deal with.

Political Fundraisers

Although I once ran for office as a Republican, I no longer openly discuss my political affiliation. Why? First, because I now vote the person and the issues, not the party. Also so I have access to those who are making a difference in both parties. I try and do three to ten fundraisers at my home each year, supporting both regional and national politicians who I believe will make a positive difference from both sides of the aisle. Politics is the nexus of money, passion, and power. In politics, the unknown person you help today is the political heavy that can help you tomorrow. Join a local campaign. Become an outspoken advocate on a particular issue; if it lights your fire, it's sure to light the fire of others: Find them and work together!

Conferences

When you have something unique to say and become a speaker, you momentarily become a celebrity in your own right. Networking is never easier than when people are coming to you. There are thousands of conferences that indulge any number of interests. If you develop a side expertise or passion, as I've suggested earlier, you can find out which well-known people share your interest and attend the conferences that these people will likely attend. Spirituality in leadership and human rights are two passions of mine; I try to participate by being active in several organizations and speaking at several conferences a year. I've met countless prominent people this way.

Nonprofit Boards

Start out by finding four or five issues that are important to you and then support them locally. Successful nonprofits seek out a few famous people to sit on their boards to help them get publicity. Eventually, the goal is to become a board member yourself and sit side by side with these people. But be sure you care and indeed want to help the cause.

Sports (Especially Golf)

Sports and exercise are terrific areas where you can meet new, important people. On the field or court, in the gym or on the track, it's a level playing field. Reputation means little. What does matter is the skill you have and the camaraderie you can create. There's something about athletics that gets people to put down their guard. Maybe competition of this sort taps into our psyche in a certain way that brings us back to a more innocent time when we were kids throwing a ball around on the street. Or maybe it's the venue itself—away from the office, on a squash court or the rolling green hills of a golf course.

Ah, golf. I would be doing you an injustice if I didn't tell you squarely that golf, among all other sports, remains the true hub of America's business elite. I've seen up close and personal how highprofile CEOs and executives lobby desperately—often for years— to be admitted into a private golf club. Why do these men and women of power endure this humiliation to play a round or two? It is, of course, the relationships, the building of friendships, the camaraderie that is created with people who they know could be very important to their company or career.

The rules of conduct are strict. It should never appear to anyone that you are trying to cash in on relationships or your membership in the club. At some clubs, to so much as hint at a future business deal on the course is a breach of etiquette; at others, you can be rather blatant about it. You'll need to feel that out. But most avid golfers will admit that the game has opened up countless opportunities. They do, ultimately, get to do business with one another—even if it's on the nineteenth hole, at the bar, over drinks. Golfers also say that the experience on the course with another person is very telling. It comes down, again, to trust. A CEO can tell if a future business partner is discreet, if he or she plays by the rules, if he or she can handle stress or is a pleasure to be around. It is both a chance to meet new people and see if these new people are up to snuff.

Because the game has proven so useful, there are many ways one can enjoy its extracurricular benefits at any level. Almost all industry associations host regular golf outings and tournaments.

Charities, conferences, and other organizations do the same in hopes of drawing this distinguished group. You can participate in any of these events without being a member.

As for me, despite my years caddying and the fact that I played for my high school team and have won a few tournaments, I don't play golf. It just takes too much time for me. Four-plus hours is just too tough. Now I play only a periodic round with friends at a wedding weekend or at a big event. But for me, it's mostly Barry's Boot Camp for my kind of sports or squash at the Yale Club in New York or a great run in Central Park or around the Hollywood Hills. Whether it's golf, tennis, bowling, or boot camp, the idea is to make it communal—join a league, a club, or an event, and you're bound to meet some new, exciting people.

There's nothing wrong with looking for ways to spend time with people who have accomplished more and have more wisdom than you. Once you put yourself in position to connect with the famous and powerful, the key is not to feel as if you're undeserving or an impostor. You're a star in your own right, with your own accomplishments, and you have a whole lot to give to the world.

27. Build It and They Will Come

As a young man, I could relate to Groucho Marx. Like the famous comedian, I, too, had no interest in belonging to any club that would have me as a member.

It certainly wasn't because of some misplaced belief in selfsufficiency: I knew then how invaluable and rewarding a gathering of people could be. You wouldn't hear any angry grumblings out of my mouth about not having enough time. (That excuse kills me—what could be more important than meeting likeminded professionals?) And I certainly wasn't shy in large crowds.

It's just that all the clubs that seemed worth attending had their doors closed to a young, relatively unconnected man like me.

These clubs and conferences, with their selective memberships and aura of power, exist for good reason: People are always hungry to congregate with other people with similar interests, to make a difference in their communities, and to create an environment that makes it easier to do business. Big company CEOs realize that to make big things happen—whether it's public policy or a big deal with a public company—you need others. And the more connected, powerful, and resourceful these people are, the more you'll accomplish.

That's why the world's premier power and business gatherings, like the World Economic Forum in Davos and Renaissance Weekend, are such tough events to get into. At Renaissance Weekend, we've seen unknown politicians connect with the type of people that would lead them to become nationally known figures. At Davos, we've seen international policies formed and billion-dollar deals hatched over a cup of Swiss coffee. Of course, most of us can't get invited to Davos. But there are always gatherings and clubs to which we are not, at least initially, invited.

So you can't get into the big muckety-muck party tomorrow. Big deal. We all have the entrepreneurial spirit within us—if you can't play on a specific mountain, there's no reason not to build your own.

My friend Richard Wurman, an architect by trade, twenty years ago imagined how a convergence of technology, entertainment, and design was going to shake up the economy. "I was flying a lot, and I found that the only people who were interesting to talk to on airplanes were people in those three businesses," he has said on many an occasion. "And that when they were talking of a project they had passion about, they always included those other two professions." So to bring people in these fields together, he started the TED conference in 1984—with few attendees and his friends as guest speakers.

Opening every year with the same line, "Welcome to the dinner party I always wanted to have but couldn't," TED became the perfect event—a cross between a rollicking party and a mesmerizing graduate seminar. Year after year, more and more people came from all walks of life: scientists, authors, actors, CEOs, professors. At TED, it wouldn't be odd to see musician/producer Quincy Jones having a chat with Newscorp CEO Rupert Murdoch, or movie director Oliver Stone arguing with Oracle's founder and CEO Larry J. Ellison.

From money-losing get-together to exclusive confab, TED eventually took in upward of $3 million a year, almost all profit. Richard paid no speaker fees and organized the event with just a few assistants. He sold TED for $14 million in 2001, and is now busy running a new conference called TEDmed, about the convergence of technology and health, which I highly recommend.

I tried to do something similar when, as a fresh-faced MBA, I moved to Chicago after taking a job with Deloitte. I barely knew anyone in the city. The first thing I did was ask people to introduce me to their friends in Chicago. As I met with the people my friends had suggested, I began to inquire what boards I could join to get more involved in the life of the city. Doing so, I knew, would inevitably lead to increased business for my new company.

I was so young that no one really took me seriously. The traditional options, like the symphony board or country clubs, were not open to me. I had lots of offers to join the junior boards. But they were basically social groups. I wanted to be more of an activist, to make a real difference in the community. I didn't just want to host wine-tastings at a twenty-something dating mixer.

At a time like this, you have to figure out what is your U.S.P.— "unique selling proposition," for all you non-MBA types out there. What secret sauce can you bring to the table? Your proposition can be an expertise, a hobby, or even an interest or passion for a particular cause that will serve as the foundation from which an entire organization or club can be established.

All clubs are based on common interests. Members are united by a similar job, philosophy, hobby, neighborhood, or simply because they are the same race, religion, or generation. They are bound by a common proposition that is unique to them. They have, in other words, a reason to hang out together.

You can take your own distinctive proposition and then take the extra step that most people don't. Start an organization. And invite those you want to meet to join you. Gaining members will be easy. Like most clubs, it starts with your group of friends, who then select their own friends. Over time, those people will bring in even more new and intriguing people.

This is an enormously successful model that even thriving businesses have built upon. Think about the successful Internet sites that pooled people together around a common proposition—like political affiliation, gardening, or even, in the case of iVillage, being a woman—and built profitable enterprises on the feeling of belonging to that community. Think, also, of airline miles or your local grocery store where you get a discount for being a member of a loyalty program. Building a community of like-minded people around a common cause or interest is, and has always been, a very compelling proposition in its own right.

In those days, my proposition came from my personal interest in the popular business concept at the time called Total Quality Management (TQM), which, as I've described, formed the basis of my content that I used to differentiate myself at my first job out of Yale and then during a stint working with one of the professors at business school.

On a national level, the government had established an organization called the Baldrige National Quality Program that rewarded companies who exhibited excellence in TQM. In Illinois, I thought I could create a similar nonprofit organization for local companies. With a federal program already in the works, I figured it would not be too difficult to find others with a similar interest— judges and other members of the national organization who lived in Chicago, consultants, and employees of big corporations whose job it was to deal with TQM.

The first thing I needed to do was enlist the support of an institution or expert in TQM in order to attract other potential members. I asked the head of TQM for First Chicago, Aleta Belltetete, to join me as cofounder. She then pulled in her boss and one of the most influential CEOs in Chicago at the time, Dick Thomas, who gave us his blessing and agreed to adopt the initiative as one he personally supported. With Dick's backing, Governor Jim Edgar gladly assigned his Lieutenant Governor to our board. In landing the support of these three people, our start-up organization got a big dose of credibility. Soon a whole host of people was willing to be part of the enterprise, including the leaders of TQM at Amoco and Rush Presbyterian Hospital, who also brought their CEOs on board. The kicker: Because I had started the organization, I was president! Of course, now we had to create, run, and finance this enterprise. But the hard part was now done. We were a credible institution, and from here we all just rolled up our sleeves and got to the nitty-gritty work, which is also critical.

Thus was born The Lincoln Award for Business Excellence (ABE). The organization still exists today as a successful not-forprofit foundation that assists Illinois organizations in building sound businesses. It has hundreds and hundreds of volunteers, a large board, and a full-time staff. Two years after I started it, I knew every major CEO in Chicago on a first-name basis.

The lesson? Even a Harvard MBA or an invitation to Davos is no substitute for personal initiative. If you can't find an outfit to join that allows you to make a difference, then recognize what you do have to offer—your particular expertise, contacts, interests, or experience. Rally people behind them and make your own difference.

The days when clubs were only for wealthy white men to consort with people just like themselves are over. It doesn't matter if it's a group of carpet salespeople meeting weekly to discuss the trials and tribulations of their jobs; a roundtable of female Republicans who are dissatisfied with the stance of the state party; or a group who share a passion for great wines and who come together monthly to do tastings, hear vintners who are traveling through the area, and who plan an annual trip to Napa. Whatever it is and whoever you are don't matter.

As long as it's as an association of people with shared interests meeting in a specified place (even if that place is cyberspace), you'll benefit from belonging to something larger than yourself. You and your fellow members will be strengthened by a collective identity. And whereas with business, where boundaries of most relationships are clearly defined by a specific project or deal and end when that project or deal is done, membership in a club (preferably a club you've started) will lead to friendships that will last for years.

The business term networking, as it happens, joined the English language in 1 9 6 6 . But more than two centuries earlier, in Philadelphia, a young Benjamin Franklin used this sweet social science to become one of the most influential men in our as-yet-untitled nation. Before he became a revered patriot, statesman, and inventor, he was one of America's most successful businessmen, rising from indentured servant to printing tycoon.

Flip your calendars, if you w i l l , back to 1 7 2 3 , at which time the seventeen-year-old Franklin was neither wealthy nor accomplished. He was an aspiring entrepreneur—trained in the printing trade by his brother James—and a fresh face in Philadelphia, having moved there after failing to find work in N e w York. Knowing no one in his new town, but eager to start his own print shop, Franklin began to flex his connecting mojo.

Within seven months, Franklin—who'd landed a job in an established print shop—made the acquaintance of Pennsylvania Governor William Keith. The governor encouraged young Franklin to travel to London to buy whatever equipment he'd need to start his own press. Keith even promised letters of reference and credit, both of which Franklin would need to purchase a printing press and type.

But upon reaching London, Franklin found that Keith had not furnished these letters. Franklin spent the next two years earning enough money to simply sail back to America. On his return voyage, Franklin again displayed his networking virtuosity: His first job, back in Philadelphia, was as a clerk in the store of Thomas Denham, a fellow passenger on his trans-Atlantic voyage.

Before long, Franklin was back in the print trade, employed in the same established print shop as before. In the interest of intellectual stimulation and his own self-advancement, Franklin organized a dozen of his friends into a Friday night social group called the "Junto"—described, as follows, in The Autobiography.

The rules that I drew up required that every member, in his turn, should produce one or more queries on any point of Morals, Politics, or Natural Philosophy [physics], to be discuss'd by the company; and once in three months produce and read an essay of his own writing, on any subject he pleased.

The members of the Junto were young men not yet respectable or established enough to break into the clubs that served Philadelphia's business elite. Like Franklin, they were tradesmen, common people. No doubt about it—the man loved clubs. Indeed, in addition to its lessons of thrift, industry, and prudence, Franklin's autobiography tells us every man should be part of a social group, if not three. He believed that a group of like-minded, achievementoriented individuals could dramatically leverage each other's success to do things otherwise impossible.

N o w flash those calendars f o r w a r d , if you can, to 1 7 3 1 . Franklin, having earned enough to start his own print shop, invested in a small failing newspaper, the Pennsylvania Gazette. Through snappy content and graphics (much of it written or drawn by Franklin himself) and daring distribution, Franklin turned the Gazette into a profitable vehicle with the largest circulation in the colonies. The newspaper's prosperity transformed Franklin into an eighteenth-centurymediamagnate.Franklingainedenough renown—and money—to apply himself to public projects, the first of which was the establishment of the Library Company of Philadelphia, the first circulating library in North America (still in existence).

It was the library campaign—the first of Franklin's several public projects for Philadelphia—that gave Franklin a deep insight into one of the crown virtues of networking. The resistance he encountered, he tells us:

[M]ade me soon feel the Impropriety of presenting one's self as the Proposer of any useful Project that might be suppos'd to raise one's Reputation in the smallest degree above that of one's Neighbors, when one has need of their Assistance to accomplish that Project. I therefore put my self as much as I could out of sight, and stated it as a Scheme of a Number of Friends, w h o had requested me to go about and propose it to such as they thought Lovers of Reading. In this w a y my Affair went on more smoothly, and I ever after practis'd it on such Occasions.

A n d , oh, would there be "Occasions." Following the library in 1731—for which the Junto helped Franklin find his first fifty subscribers—there came Philadelphia's city watch (1735); its first fire company ( 1 7 3 6 ) ; its first college, which would two years later become the University of Pennsylvania ( 1 7 4 9 ) ; its first—and also the colonies' first hospital, through a mixture of public and private funding ( 1 7 5 1 ) ; and its first fire insurance company (1751). Franklin also organized Pennsylvania's first volunteer militia (1 747) and introduced a program of paving, lighting, and cleaning Philadelphia's streets (1756). Each project depended upon the assistance of Franklin's network of personal and professional connections, and with each project his network grew, along with his reputation as a doer of g o o d .

Franklin died in April 1 7 9 0 , about one year into George Washington's first term. More than 2 0 , 0 0 0 Americans attended his funeral.

With networking, as in so much else, we follow a trail that Franklin blazed. From him we also learn the value of modesty and the power of teamwork—beginning first with a group of young tradesmen that he brought together in his Junto and ending with the powerful men who hammered out the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.

28. Never Give in to Hubris

In my Ph.D. section on connecting, I tried to impart some of the lessons I've learned as someone known as a master at connecting with people. But I'd be remiss if I didn't tell one short, embarrassing story that taught me early on what may be the most important lesson of all.

It is a cautionary tale about what not to do and how not to act. The pursuit of a powerful network of friends is not in and of itself a bad thing. But the closer you get to powerful people, the more powerful you tend to feel. There is a point where your reaching out to others will pick up momentum; one powerful contact will lead to another and then to the next. It can be a very fun and motivating and important ride.

Don't let a little vanity seep into your actions or excite more expectations or create a deeper sense of entitlement. Don't get your Ph.D. in master connecting, and then, for some reason, forget all the classes and values that were your foundation.

Everyone fails in life. What will you do when the phone calls that were once returned immediately now don't even get a response?

When I ran for City Council of New Haven as a sophomore against a fellow classmate, the idea of a kid running for local government made a special-interest news item. It wasn't long before a reporter from the New York Times showed up to write an article. Little did I know then that that one Times article would provide me with one of the more painful and useful lessons of my life. For I had angered William F. Buckley Jr., the famous Yale alum known for founding the conservative magazine National Review and authoring dozens of books.

I ran for office as a Republican. The Republicans needed a candidate, and at Yale, they were the minority as opposed to the many limousine liberals who seemed to a steelworking kid from Pittsburgh insincere and unthinking. Anyway, I was a youngster, and I was still exploring my political sensibilities. I probably also had a certain affinity for the traditionalism of the moderate conservative party on campus called the Tories and a real fondness for their parties and the commitment of their leadership and alumni.

But this story is not about politics. It's about pride and ego. Back then, I hadn't yet realized that my upbringing could be a well of strength rather than weakness. Insecurity drove me to act in ways I wish I hadn't. My leadership style, for instance, was far from inclusive. While I was racking up accomplishments, my sheer will and ambition alienated a lot of people. I trumpeted my awards and failed to recognize those who had helped make them possible. Too much hubris and not enough humility, as my dad might say, though not in so many words.

I was showing all those kids whom I had caddied for back at the club that I was just as good as they were.

I lost the election, as you know, but the New York Times article had been read by quite a number of people, and by a few who thought being a Republican at Yale was a good thing. In my mailbox, weeks after the election, I received a short note.

"So happy to see that there is at least one Republican at Yale. Come see me sometime. WFB."

William F. Buckley Jr. had taken the time to write me\ I was floored. I became an instant celebrity in our small circle.

Of course, the man had issued an invitation and I, for one, was going to take him up on the offer. I immediately set about contacting Mr. Buckley to set a date for a meeting. He graciously invited me to his home and even suggested I bring a few friends along.

A few months later, with three other classmates in tow, I arrived at a Connecticut train station where we were greeted by none other than Mr. Buckley himself in an old pair of khakis and a wrinkled button-down shirt. He drove us to his home, where we met his wife, who was gardening at the time. It was a glorious day. We shared a few glasses of wine, talked politics, Mr. Buckley played the harpsichord, and then we all sat down for a lengthy lunch. Afterward, we were invited to take a dip in the Buckleys' beautiful pool with tile mosaics reminiscent of a Roman bath.

I couldn't let the opportunity pass. Mr. Buckley wasn't the only Yale alum dissatisfied with the political climate at his alma mater. Other conservative alumni were complaining. Many stopped giving money to Yale outright. I thought I had a solution that would be a real win-win for the campus and for these alums.

What if, I suggested, we create a foundation that allowed disenfranchised conservative alums the ability to give money directly to the undergraduate organizations that represented the traditional values they supported? Yale wins because it would be getting money that it otherwise wouldn't. Conservative alumni win because they could again feel good about their school and their ability to make a contribution. Students win because there would be more organizational diversity and money for campus clubs. What could be better?

Well, I made the pitch and I thought Mr. Buckley embraced the idea. He told me that he had started a foundation to fund a student publication a few years before that had never quite got off the ground. There was, he said, still money in the foundation, and he would be happy to put it toward my idea. That is, at least, what I heard. In my excitement, I left the i's undotted and t's uncrossed for fear of a good thing getting spoiled. "Never sell beyond the close," as they say, and I thought I had the close.

Do they ever add that you better be damn sure both parties know what, exactly, is being closed and that both remember thereafter?

When I returned to campus, I didn't conceal my excitement. I made sure everyone knew that I was the new president of a brandspankin'-new organization. Boy, wasn't I cool? I started searching out other alumni who might be interested in contributing to the cause. I hit the phones, and on weekends, I'd go to New York to pitch other alumni on the new foundation that William F. Buckley and I were starting.

"Bill Buckley put in some money. Would you also like to help out?" I'd ask them. And they did. On each return trip from New York, my head got bigger and bigger as I reveled in the famous and powerful people that were giving me (note the use of "me," not "us") money.

My poor classmates had to suffer my telling stories of my latest escapade to New York. Then, as quickly as it started, my ever-sobrief brush with fame came to a screeching halt.

As luck would have it, Mr. Buckley found himself one day in an elevator with one of the other famous alums who had pledged money. "Bill," this gentleman said, "I matched your contribution to this new foundation at Yale." To which Bill replied, "What foundation?"

It turned out that Mr. Buckley did not recall our conversation. Or maybe he told me one thing and I heard something quite different. Maybe he just thought I wanted to rekindle the magazine. But by then, it was irrelevant. Mr. Buckley could recall only his stalled magazine and a vague reference to restarting it at Yale. He told the other donor he was not the cofounder of a new conservative foundation at Yale, which I'm sure was the way he saw it. At which point, everything unraveled.

The pledges I had received needed to go unrealized, as there was no repository for them any longer. Mr. Buckley didn't return my calls. Most important, and to my shock, my friends who were present and equally excited that day at Mr. Buckley's didn't come to my rescue when I pleaded for them to explain that they had heard exactly what I had heard. My reputation had been tarnished among some important people. I was embarrassed among my friends after I had been gloating. And then to add rock salt to the wound, someone at Yale's college newspaper got wind of all that had happened and created an illustration depicting me as getting wounded by large, famous names being dropped from the sky. Ouch, indeed, and I deserved it.

Looking back now, I'm appreciative of the experience. I learned some valuable lessons. For one, I had to begin the journey to change my leadership style. It wasn't enough to get things done. You had to get things done and make the people around you feel involved, and not just part of the process but part of the leadership. I learned that commitments weren't commitments unless everyone involved knew what was on the table with absolute clarity. I learned how truly small the world is, especially the world of the rich and powerful.

Most important, I learned that arrogance is a disease that can betray you into forgetting your real friends and why they're so important. Even with the best of intentions, too much hubris will stir up other people's ire and their desire to put you in your place. So remember, in your hike up the mountain, be humble. Help others up the mountain along with and before you. Never let the prospect of a more powerful or famous acquaintance make you lose sight of the fact that the most valuable connections you have are those you've already made at all levels. I reach back into my past regularly to touch base with the folks who have meant so much to me since I was a kid. I go out of my way to tell the early mentors what they meant to me and how much they were responsible for my success today.

29. Find Mentors, Find Mentees, Repeat

Great musicians know it. So do professional athletes and world-class CEOs. Successful people in nearly every field know that they can't be their best unless they have a good coach in their corner. And now the business world knows it, too: In a fastpaced, fluid, and dynamic environment, where flattened organizations made up of cross-functional teams must respond rapidly to change, mentoring is one of the most effective strategies to get the best out of each and every individual.

Many companies have developed formal mentoring programs with the idea that sharing what you know and learning what others have to teach is just smart management. At FerrazziGreenlight, we have worked with many companies to create such formal programs with the idea that helping employees build relationships for career success reduces turnover and ultimately leads to stronger external relationships for revenue growth as well. One of the more historically successful programs was established in 1997 at one of Intel's largest chip-making facilities in New Mexico.

The people responsible for developing that program wanted to go beyond the traditional notion of mentoring as a one-way process that teamed seasoned executives with ambitious up-andcomers. To the people at Intel, organization-wide mentoring meant creating an inclusive learning network matching people not by job title or by seniority but by specific skills that are in demand. The company uses an intranet site and e-mail to break down departmental barriers and create partnerships between two people who can teach each other different valuable skills that they need to be better employees. The system enables Intel to spread best practices quickly throughout the global organization and develop the best and brightest employees in the industry.

While it's wonderful the business world is finally catching on, mentoring—a lifelong process of giving and receiving in a neverending role as both master and apprentice—has always been the Holy Grail for those who love to connect people with people.

No process in history has done more to facilitate the exchange of information, skills, wisdom, and contacts than mentoring. Young men and women learned their trade by studying as apprentices under their respective craftsmen. Young artists developed their individual style only after years working under elder masters. New priests apprenticed for a decade or more with older priests to become wise religious men themselves. When finally these men and women embarked on their own, they had the knowledge and the connections to succeed in their chosen field.

By studying the lives of those who know more than we do, we expand our horizons. As a child, I realized that many of the opportunities other kids had that would expose them to new things and new people, like summer camp or extra tutoring, were unavailable to me. I quickly learned that success in my life would require determination, exploration, self-reliance, and a strong will. I also learned to rely on other people who were available: my father and some of the more professional people he knew in our neighborhood.

My mom and dad instructed me to observe how the most successful people we knew worked and talked and lived. My parents told me I could learn how to live my life by watching others live their lives. My dad, of course, did all he could to nurture and teach me what he knew. But he wanted me to know more than that; like most fathers, he wanted me to be more than he was. He gave me the confidence I needed to go out, without pride or insecurity, and develop relationships with the men and women he knew whom he respected.

Perhaps the value he placed on mentors came from Damon Runyon, one of my father's favorite authors. A tough guy who dropped out of school by the sixth grade and bootstrapped his way to success, Runyon's tough-luck stories about equally tough characters had a lot of emotional resonance for my dad. His favorite quote of Runyon's was "Always try to rub up against money, for if you rub up against money long enough, some of it may rub off on you." No surprise, then, that my dad wanted me rubbing up against people with more money, more knowledge, and more skills than he had.

Before I was even ten years old, I remember him encouraging me to bike down our dusty driveway to hang out with our neighbors. By the time I was in grade school, I had reached out to George Love, the father of one of my friends and a local attorney. Dad would take me to see Walt Saling, a stockbroker, every so often just to visit. I'd sit close by and pepper Walt with questions about his job and the people he worked with. When I came home from prep school, Dad and I would go on our "rounds." We'd go visit those people Dad thought I'd learn something from: Toad and Julie Repasky, who owned the local cement plant and whom Dad used to work for, or the Fontanella sisters, who used to tutor me in Latin and math when I was growing up. These men and women of our town were the celebrities for our working-class family. They were professionals with a good education, and that meant they had something to teach.

The fact is, from my father's perspective, everyone had something to offer. When he'd go out for his weekly sit-down at a local diner with his friends, he took me along. He wanted me to be comfortable with older, more experienced people and to never fear seeking their help or asking them questions. When my dad would show up with me in tow on a Friday night, his buddies would say, "Here's Pete [my father's name] and Re-Pete [my nickname to his buddies]."

I look back on those times with so much gratitude and emotion. At every turn, and to this very day, I still try to connect with trailblazers, head honchos, and people who have experienced a different life than I've had.

My father and Runyon were onto something in a way, perhaps, that was even more profound than they imagined. Research now backs up their belief that whom you associate with is crucial to who you become. Dr. David McClelland of Harvard University researched the qualities and characteristics of high achievers in our society. What he found was that your choice of a "reference group," the people you hang out with, was an important factor in determining your future success or failure. In other words, if you hang with connected people, you're connected. If you hang with successful people, you're more likely to become successful yourself.

Let me explain how important mentoring became for me through an experience I had early on in my career. It was toward the end of the summer before my second year at business school. Deloitte and Touche, the accounting and consulting firm I had been interning with during that summer, was having its annual end-of-the-summer cocktail party for its interns from all around the country.

Off to the corner, amid all the clink of drinks and polite chatter, I saw a bunch of the partners and senior staff hanging around this big, gruff, white-haired guy who was holding court. Other interns stayed in their comfortable cliques, keeping their distance from their bosses, but I headed straight for the poobahs. It was, really, no different from riding my bike down the road to see the neighbors.

I went straight up to the man in the center of all this action, introduced myself, and asked him point blank, "Who are you?"

"I'm the CEO of this firm," he said with an abruptness that signaled I should have known that, while the partners around him smiled and chuckled mischievously.

He was about six-foot-three, barrel-chested, and very, very direct. He's the kind of guy who just fills the room with his presence.

"Well, I guess I should have known that," I responded.

"Yeah, I guess you should have," he said. He was joking, and as is often the case with people in positions of power, he liked my candor and chutzpah. He introduced himself as Pat Loconto.

"Loconto," I said. "That's a good Jewish name, isn't it?"

He laughed, and I talked with him in the little Italian that he and I knew. In short order, we were fully engaged, talking about our families and our similar upbringing. His dad was also a firstgeneration Italian-American who instilled in him many of the same values my father had taught me. I did, in fact, know Pat, but only by reputation. I had heard about his no-nonsense style— tough and tireless but warmhearted, too. I decided then and there that getting to know him better might not be a bad idea.

That I approached him at the cocktail party and discovered we were cut from similar cloth deepened my respect for the man and his respect for me. I found out later that quickly after that exchange, he followed up and found out everything about me and my summer with the firm. That night I hung out with Pat and the senior partners into the wee hours of the morning. I didn't try to be anyone I wasn't. I didn't overstretch and pretend to know more than I did. Many people believe that's what it takes when reaching out to those above you, but in truth that often results in making a jerk out of yourself.

I remembered that my father and mother had told me to speak less in such situations; the less you say, the more you'll likely hear. They were warning me, given my predisposition for dominating a conversation from an early age. That's the way you learn from others, Dad said, and glean the small nuances that will help you engender a deeper relationship later on. There's also no better way to signal your interest in becoming a mentee. People tacitly notice your respect and are flattered by the attention. That said, quiet for me isn't exactly quiet. I asked tons of questions, suggested things that I saw from the summer, and conspired with these leaders of the firm on what was important to them—making the firm a success.

Mentoring is a very deliberate activity that requires people to check their ego at the door, hold back from resenting other people's success, and consciously strive to build beneficial relationships whenever the opportunity arises. Other interns at that party looked at Pat and the other senior partners with intimidation and boredom (What do I have in common with them?) and therefore kept their distance. They looked at their job titles versus the bigwigs' and felt excluded, and because of it, they were.

When I finally graduated from school, in typical MBA fashion, I interviewed with several companies. My choice was coming down to Deloitte Consulting and one of their competitors, McKinsey. McKinsey was then considered the gold standard of consulting companies. For most of my peers, the choice would have been obvious.

Then, one afternoon, I got a call the day before my final McKinsey interview. When I picked up the phone, I was met with a familiar gruff voice. "Accept our offer now and you can come down to New York for dinner this evening with me and some of my partners." Before I had a chance to respond, he said, "It's Pat Loconto. I want to know if you're coming to Deloitte or not?"

I told Pat, uncomfortably, that I hadn't decided on where I'd end up. But I had an idea that might help me through the process. "Listen, I'm still up in the air," I told him. "But it would help if I had dinner with you and a few partners to get a better feel for what I'd be doing and where the organization is headed."

"I'll have dinner with you only if you accept my offer," he said. Pat was joking again, and I liked him even more for his unorthodox recruiting practices. Then he let me off the hook with, "OK, get your butt down to New York, and don't worry, we'll get you out to Chicago in the morning for your interview." Now, how did he know about my interview?

So I found myself with Pat and a few partners around a table at Grifone, their favorite Italian restaurant in Manhattan. The banter was hard and heavy, as was the drinking. We had gone through bottles and bottles of great wine and a few cognacs on top of that. Near the end of dinner, Pat threw out his pitch and actually launched into a fairly shocking tirade.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You think McKinsey gives a damn about Keith Ferrazzi?" Before I could answer, he continued. "You think the CEO of McKinsey knows who you are? You think any of the senior partners would take a Sunday night to have dinner with you? You'll be just another number-crunching MBA grad lost in the shuffle. We care about you. We want you to be successful here. More importantly, we think you can make a difference in our firm."

Was I in? Pat demanded to know.

Wow, his pitch was compelling, and right then my instinct told me he was right. I knew he was right. But I wasn't about to leave that dinner without making a small pitch of my own.

"Look, I'll make you a deal," I said. "If I accept your offer, all I ask is that you give me three dinners a year at this very restaurant for as long as I'm at Deloitte. I'm in if you're in."

He looked me in the eyes and then with the biggest smile said, "Great. Welcome to Deloitte."

By the way, I then asked him for more money. He just shook his head and laughed. Well, it never hurts to ask; the worst he could have said was no. So, after three hours in a restaurant, this man convinced me to make a life-changing career decision without one word about title, salary, or even one detail of how he expected I might make a difference.

Honestly, I still had my doubts at the beginning that I had made the right move. In consulting, Deloitte's was smaller potatoes those days; its prestige didn't compare with McKinsey's.

But what a right move I had made—in fact, it was the best of my life. First, because I went to Deloitte Consulting, I was given more responsibilities and I learned more about consulting in the eight years that followed than most people learn in twenty. Second, I found I could make a difference given my access to the senior partners. Third, and most important, I realized that finding a talented, experienced mentor who is willing to invest the time and effort to develop you as a person and a professional is far more important than making career decisions based purely on salary or prestige.

Besides, back then the money wasn't important. You learn in your twenties, as the saying goes, and earn in your thirties. And boy, did I ever learn. Each year, Pat and I had at least three dinners at Grifone, that same Italian restaurant. For my entire tenure at Deloitte, I had the ear of the CEO, and he kept asking about me among his partners. He was looking out for me the entire time.

Ultimately, of course, I got to work closely with Pat and other amazing men and women at Deloitte, and it taught me the importance of attaching yourself to great people, great teachers. Not that working with Pat and his right-hand man Bob Kirk was easy. They taught me some hard lessons about staying focused; that bold ideas weren't enough if they couldn't be executed; that the details are as significant as the theories; that you had to put people first, all people, not just those above you. Pat probably should have fired me a few times. Instead, he invested time and energy into making me the kind of executive—and more important, the kind of leader—he wanted me to be for the sake of the firm and for the sake of his role as mentor.

There were two crucial components that made my mentorship with Pat—and makes any mentorship, for that matter—successful. He offered his guidance because, for one, I promised something in return. I worked nonstop in an effort to use the knowledge he was imparting to make him, and his firm, more successful. And two, we created a situation that went beyond utility. Pat liked me and became emotionally invested in my advancement. He cared about me. That's the key to a successful mentorship. A successful mentoring relationship needs equal parts utility and emotion. You can't simply ask somebody to be personally invested in you. There has to be some reciprocity involved—whether its hard work or loyalty that you give in return—that gets someone to invest in you in the first place. Then, when the process kicks in, you have to mold your mentor into a coach; someone for whom your success is in some small or big way his success. I owe so much to Pat. If it were not for him, I would not be the man I am today. And that goes for so many others, starting with my Mom and Dad and Jack Pidgeon from the Kiski School, and my "Uncle" Bob Wilson, to so so so many others I've mentioned in this book, as well as those left unmentioned but to whom I feel so close.

The best way to approach utility is to give help first, and not ask for it. If there is someone whose knowledge you need, find a way to be of use to that person. Consider their needs and how you can assist them. If you can't help them specifically, perhaps you can contribute to their charity, company, or community. You have to be prepared to give back to your mentors and have them know that from the outset. Before Pat would consider having dinner with me three times a year, he had to know that I would be committed to his firm. That's how I found myself so early on in a trusted position that later turned into a friendship.

If, however, there are no immediate opportunities to help, you must be prudent and conscious of the imposition you're placing on that person. Almost every day, some ambitious young man or woman sends me an e-mail that states all too directly, "I want a job." Or, "I think you can help me. Take me on as your mentee." I shudder at how deeply these young folks misunderstand the process. If they're going to get my help, and they haven't even offered their help in return, then at minimum they should attempt to endear themselves to me. Tell me why you're special. Tell me what we have in common. Express gratitude, excitement, and passion.

The problem is often that these people have never had mentors before and they have a limited view of how it works. Some people think there is just one special person out there waiting to be all things at all times to them. But as my father taught me, mentors are all around you. It's not necessarily your boss or even someone in your business. Mentoring is a nonhierarchical activity that transcends careers and can cross all organizational levels.

A CEO can learn from a manager, and vice versa. Some smart companies, recognizing this fact, actually have programs in place that view new hires as mentors to the company. After a month on the job, they'll ask these new employees to jot down all their impressions with the idea that a pair of fresh eyes can see old problems and make innovative suggestions that others can't.

In fact, the people I've learned so much from are my own young mentees, who help me periodically to update my skills and view the world anew.

As much as you stretch yourself by reaching up, be sure you are stretching just as far to reach back and help others. I've always taken the time to give young people a helping hand. Most of them actually end up working for me at some point, either as interns or employees. People like Paul Lussow, Chad Hodge, Hani Abisaid, Andy Bohn, Brinda Chugani, Anna Mongayt, John Lux, Jason Annis. The list goes on and on.

There are those who don't get it at first. They sheepishly ask, "How can I ever repay you for all that you are doing?" I tell them they're repaying me now. All I really expect is sincere gratitude, and to see them apply all that they are learning.

To see Brinda moving up at Deloitte, Hani becoming a partner in one of my businesses and "graduating" into a new company I had a hand in forming, Chad becoming one of Hollywood's most successful young writers, Andy becoming a player in Hollywood himself, or Paul attending Wharton is a total thrill. It's even more so when they get to a point in their careers when they start becoming mentors themselves.

I can't stress enough how powerful the process is and how important it is that you give your respect and time to it. In return, you'll be more than compensated with spirit, enthusiasm, trust, and empathy—all things that will ultimately far exceed the value of any advice you gave.

If you take mentoring seriously, and give it the time and energy it deserves, you'll soon find yourself involved in a learning network not unlike the one Intel uses. You'll be the recipient of more information and more goodwill than you ever imagined, as you play the role of both master and apprentice in a powerful constellation of people all simultaneously teaching and being taught.

If connecting can be described, loosely, as the commingling of friendship and mission, then First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt was one of the twentieth century's premier practitioners. In her autobiography, she wrote: being " d r a w n together through the work . . . is . . . one of the most satisfying ways of making and keeping friends." Through groups such as the International Congress of Working Women and the Women's International League of Peace and Freedom (WILPF), Roosevelt befriended a w i d e circle of friends—and a few foes—in advancing some of the great social causes of our time.

The First Lady was not timid about using her personal network to tackle testy social issues. For example, she fought for women's rights in the workplace—their inclusion in labor unions and their right to a living w a g e . Today, those seem like uncontroversial issues, but during the late 1 920s and early 1 9 3 0 s , many Americans blamed working women for displacing male "breadwinners" in the midst of the Great Depression.

Roosevelt believed the beauty and obligation of living in a democracy was to make a stand for what you believe in; and she proved you could do so while gaining the trust and admiration of your peers. She also proved that sometimes it was your peers whom you need to stand up against.

In 1 9 3 6 , thanks largely to the First Lady, an opera singer named M a r i a n Anderson became the first black person to perform at the White House. But Anderson's acceptance at 1 6 0 0 Pennsylvania Avenue was unusual. Though Anderson was the country's thirdhighest concert box-office draw, her success did not exempt her from the racial biases that pervaded her era. W h e n traveling, she was restricted to " c o l o r e d " waiting rooms, hotels, and train cars. In the South, newspapers rarely called her "Miss Anderson," opting for "Artist Anderson" and "Singer Anderson" instead.

In 1 9 3 9 , Anderson's manager and Howard University tried to arrange a performance at Constitution Hall in Washington, D.C. The Daughters of the American Revolution (D.A.R.), the organization that owned the Hall, refused them. Roosevelt, herself a member of the D.A.R., promptly—and publicly—resigned her membership to protest. In a letter to the D.A.R., she wrote: "/ am in complete disagreement with the attitude taken in refusing Constitution Hall to a great artist . . . You had an opportunity to lead in an enlightened way and it seems to me that your organization has failed."

Mrs. Roosevelt arranged for Anderson to perform on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. The show, on April 9 (Easter Sunday), 1 9 3 9 , was seen by a crowd of 7 5 , 0 0 0 .

Yes, loyalty matters. But not when it means sacrificing your principles.

Though Eleanor Roosevelt's positions on civil rights hardly seem radical today, they were far in advance of her time: All of this was decades before the Supreme Court, in its 1954 Brown v. Board of Education case, rejected the "separate but equal" doctrine.

Every time the First Lady advocated for a social cause, preached tolerance in a black church or Jewish temple, or even when, acting as a delegate to the newly formed United Nations, which passed the controversial Universal Declaration of Human Rights, she lost friends and received vicious criticism for going against the tide.

Still, this amazing woman persisted in successfully building influence for a progressive agenda. She left a legacy to which we are all indebted. What can we learn from Eleanor Roosevelt? It's not enough simply to reach out to others; instead, we all must be vigilant that our efforts to bring people together are in line with our efforts to, in part, make the world a better place.

Of course, when you're driven by principles, there are always sacrifices involved. But your determination to connect with others should never come at the expense of your values. In fact, your network of colleagues and friends, if chosen wisely, can help you fight for causes you believe in.

30. Balance Is B.S.

Balance is a myth.

You can't call my schedule "balanced" by conventional standards. Let's take a look at a typical day. Monday: I was up at 4 A.M. in Los Angeles to make calls to my team in New York. Then I worked the phone for a few more hours, trying to organize a fundraiser for a candidate friend of mine. By 7 A.M., I was at the airport for a flight to Portland, Oregon, to meet a new customer (with two cell phones buzzing, fidgeting with my BlackBerry, sending short e-mails, and my laptop never far away with spreadsheet access). After the meeting, I'm back in the car on my way to Seattle and back on the phone, setting up meetings for tonight, tomorrow, and a week from now. I'm in constant contact with my assistant, trying to get invitations out for a big dinner party I'm throwing in a month. In Seattle, I have a scheduled dinner with the folks organizing Bill Gates's CEO conference this year, after which I'll have drinks with some close friends. And tomorrow, there will be another 4 A.M. wake-up call to do it all again.

Welcome to what my friends jokingly refer to as "Ferrazzi Time," a zone of operations in which the switchboards are always open and the rush of humanity is ongoing.

Witnessing such a schedule begs a number of very important questions: Is this a life? Operating in such a way, can one have balance between work and having a life? And do you—God forbid— have to operate in Ferrazzi Time to be successful?

The answers are: Yes, it is a life, albeit my own; yes, you can find balance, albeit your own; and no, thank heavens, you don't have to do it my way.

For me, the best thing about a relationship-driven career is that it isn't a career at all. It's a way of living. Several years ago, I started to realize that connecting was actually a way of seeing the world. When I thought and behaved in that way, dividing my life between professional and personal spheres no longer made sense. I realized that what made you successful in both worlds were other people and the way you related to them. Whether those people were family people, work people, or friend people, real connecting insists that you bring the same values to every relationship. As a result, I no longer needed to make a distinction between my career happiness and my life happiness—they were both pieces of me. My life.

When it became clear to me that the key to my life was the relationships in it, I found there was no longer a need to compartmentalize work from, say, family or friends. I could spend my birthday at a business conference and be surrounded with warm and wonderful friends, as I recently did, or I could be at home in Los Angeles or New York with equally close friends to celebrate.

The kind of false idea of balance as some sort of an equation, that you could take this many hours from one side of your life and give it to this other side, flew out the window. And with it went all the stress of trying to achieve that perfect state of equilibrium we read and hear so much about.

Balance can't be bought or sold. It doesn't need to be "implemented." Balance is a mind-set, as individual and unique as our genetic code. Where you find joy, you find balance. My wacky schedule works for me and perhaps only for me. The blurring of professional and personal lives isn't for everyone. The important thing is to see connecting with others not just as another manipulative tool used toward achieving a goal but rather as a way of life. When you're out of balance, you'll know because you'll be rushed, angry, and unfulfilled. When you're balanced, you'll be joyful, enthusiastic, and full of gratitude.

Don't worry about trying to develop your own version of Ferrazzi Time. The way you reach out to others is the way you eat an 800-pound elephant: one small bite at a time.

In the end, we all live one life. And that life is all about the people we live it with.

More People, More Balance

If you buy into the myth of balance (the one that sees life as an equation), as I once did, the answers to such questions as "If I'm so 'accomplished,' why aren't I having more fun?" or "If I'm so 'organized,' why do I feel so out of control?" is to "simplify," "compartmentalize," or "reduce" your life into its most essential components.

So we try to save time by eating our lunches at our desk. We have less serendipitous conversations with colleagues, strangers, and other "nonessentials" at the water cooler. We consolidate our schedules to include only the most important actions.

People tell us, "If you just get more organized, if you strike a balance between work and home, and limit yourself to the important people in your life, you'll feel better." That's just totally misguided. What they should be saying is "I gotta get a life filled with people I love." The problem, as I see it, isn't what you're working on, it's whom you're working with.

You can't feel in love with your life if you hate your work; and, more times than not, people don't love their work because they work with people they don't like. Connecting with others doubles and triples your opportunities to meet with people that can lead to a new and exciting job.

I think the problem in today's world isn't that we have too many people in our lives, it's that we don't have enough. Dr. Will Miller and Glenn Sparks, in their book Refrigerator Rights: Creating Connections and Restoring Relationships, argue that with our increased mobility, American emphasis on individualism, and the overwhelming media distractions available to us, we lead lives of relative isolation.

How many people can walk into our homes and just open up the fridge and help themselves? Not many. People need "refrigerator rights relationships," the kind that are comfortable, informal, and intimate enough to let us walk into one another's kitchens and rummage through the refrigerator without asking. It is close relationships like these that keep us well-adjusted, happy, and successful.

America's focus on individualism works against reaching out to others. Comparative studies on levels of job stress and worker dissatisfaction show that people of individualistic cultures typically report much higher stress levels than do the people who work in more community-oriented cultures. In spite of our high standard of living, wealth and privilege haven't produced emotional well-being. Instead, as these studies show, it's a sense of belonging that brings us happiness.

When our lonely lives catch up with us, we turn to self-help literature for answers, but it isn't SELF-help we need, I'd argue, it's help from others. If you buy this, and I hope that you do, then what I teach in this book is the perfect antidote to all this talk of imbalance. Connecting is that rare thing that lets us have our cake and eat it, too. We end up serving the interests of both our work and our life, ourselves and others.

Oscar Wilde once suggested that if a person did what he or she loved, it would feel as if they never worked a day in their life. If your life is filled with people you care about and who care for you, why concern yourself with "balancing" anything at all?

31. Welcome to the Connected Age

here has never been a better time to reach out and connect than right now. The dynamic of our society, and particularly our economy, will increasingly be defined by interdependence and interconnectivity. In other words, the more everything becomes connected to everything and everyone else, the more we begin to depend on whom and what we're connected with.

Rugged individualism may have ruled for much of the nineteenth and twentieth century. But community and alliances will rule in the twenty-first century. In the digital era, when the Internet has broken down geographic boundaries and connected hundreds of millions of people and computers around the world, there's no reason to live and work in isolation. We've come to realize, again, that success is not contingent on cool technology or venture capital; it's dependent on whom you know and how you work with them. We've rediscovered that the real key to profit is working well with other people.

We've taken some lumps getting back to this fundamental truth. All the changes, all the fads, all the technologies of the last decade too often foundered on the human factor, leading the business world to treat people less as human beings than as just so many bits and bytes. We placed our faith in gadgets, processes, new organizational structures, stock market prices. When these things didn't deliver on their promise, we returned to us, you, and me.

Life is about work, work is about life, and both are about people. "The most exciting breakthrough of the twenty-first century will occur not because of technology, but because of an expanding concept of what it means to be human," said the futurist John Naisbitt. Technology has proved no substitute for personal relationships. To the contrary, it seems to be enhancing them. Look around you and you'll see this expanded view of what it means to be human, and how we interact with one another, in action. Here's just a small sampling:

• The hottest trend these days is found in social-networking software tools, and services like Spoke Software, Plaxo, and Linkedln. People are now finding new ways to use technology to connect people with bonds of trust and friendship. Some are calling it a social revolution.

• Blogs, part of the same phenomenon, are allowing passionate individuals with good content to reach literally millions of other people. These self-sustaining communities are flourishing. In the future, as personal branding continues to solidify itself as a mainstay in the economy, blogs will become as ubiquitous as resumes.

• Social scientists are making remarkable discoveries about the power of social networks. Recent research findings are proving that people who are more connected with other people live longer and are healthier. In communities where people are connected, the schools work better, the crime rate is lower, the economic growth rate is higher. Bringing people together by building personal relationships is becoming far more than a career strategy; it's increasingly regarded as one of the most effective ways to enhance America's civic and social health.

• Old-style labor unions and guilds are showing signs of revitalization. As the outsourcing of jobs outside the United States continues, and more and more of us become free agents, Americans are finding strength in membership to something larger than themselves. We're giving our loyalty and our trust not to companies but to our peers.

That's just a small taste of what's to come. We are in the formative stages of a new era of connectivity and community. You now have the skills and knowledge to thrive in this environment. But to what end? How will you thrive? What does it mean to live a truly connected life?

Certainly, some of us will tally success in terms of income and promotions. Others will cite their newfound celebrity or the exciting expertise that they've amassed. For others still, it will be the fabulous dinner parties they throw or the aspirational contacts they've befriended.

But will such success feel empty? Instead of being surrounded by a loving family and a trusted circle of friends, will you only have colleagues and clients?

Sooner or later, in one way or another, we all will ask ourselves these questions. Moreover, we'll look back on our life and wonder, What is my legacy? What have I done that is meaningful?

How many of you can recall the names of the last three CEOs of General Motors, IBM, or Wal-Mart? Are you struggling to come up with names? Now try and recall three important figures in the Civil Rights Movement. Ah, here people usually can name six or more.

Ultimately, making your mark as a connector means making a contribution—to your friends and family, to your company, to your community, and most important, to the world—by making the best use of your contacts and talents.

It's funny what events in life will make you question where you're headed and what you value most. I remember as a young man, for instance, dreaming of owning my own Brooks Brothers button-down shirt. All throughout my years growing up, I wore hand-me-downs from my mom's cleaning customers' kids or I'd find my clothes in secondhand thrift shops. I thought that when the day came that I could walk into a shop like Brooks Brothers and buy my own firsthand shirt (for retail!), well, that would be the day I arrived.

That day came. I was in my mid-twenties and I proudly bought the finest, most expensive button-down shirt Brooks Brothers sold. The next day I wore that shirt into work as if it were a rare, emerald-studded gown from the Victorian era. Then I washed it. I remember pulling my shirt from the washer and—gasp!—two buttons had fallen off. I kid you not. This, I asked myself, is what I've been waiting for all my life?

As noted author and speaker Rabbi Harold Kushner once wisely wrote, "Our souls are not hungry for fame, comfort, wealth, or power. Those rewards create almost as many problems as they solve. Our souls are hungry for meaning, for the sense that we have figured out how to live so that our lives matter so the world will at least be a little bit different for our having passed through it."

But it would take many more missing buttons before I truly started to ask myself what meaning, exactly, my soul was hungry for.

That time finally came with what I call my own personal minirevolution. Revolutions sometimes begin in the least likely of places with the least likely of heroes. Who could imagine that a small Indian man with a very strong accent could challenge what I wanted out of life and how I was going to attain it? Or that doing nothing and remaining silent for ten days, rather than trying to do everything all at once, could change the course of my life?

The first shot in my revolution happened, in all places, while I was in Switzerland for The World Economic Forum, attending an oversubscribed talk entitled, simply, "Happiness." The room was jam-packed with the world's rich and powerful—a clear indication that there were others in my midst who had experienced a few missing buttons of their own.

We were gathered together to hear a short, stout, and thoroughly happy-looking man named S. N. Goenka deliver a speech on how he, as a businessman-turned-guru, found health and happiness through an ancient tradition of meditation known as Vipassana.

Goenka slowly shuffled to the podium and launched into a talk that enraptured the entire audience for the next hour. With his words, we were all transported into our own heads, forced to confront the feelings of inadequacy, stress, and imbalance that still accompanied our seemingly successful lives.

Not a word was spoken about business, per se. There was no talk of balance sheets or influential contacts. Happiness, he told us, had nothing to do with how much money we made or how we made it.

There is only one place to find real peace, real harmony. That place is within, Goenka told us. And while we may be masters of business, it was clear that we were not masters of our own minds and souls.

There was a way, he said, to ask the right questions and become masters of our mind. Vipassana, we were told, is an insight meditation technique that means "to see things as they really are." It was a technology for inner peace that could drive fear from the heart and help us have the courage to be who we really are. Goenka described a grueling ten-day course, during which practitioners sit for hours-long stretches in absolute silence, without eye contact, writing, or communication of any kind except with teachers at the end of each day.

It was up to us. No, it was within us to live a happy and meaningful life. We just had to ask the right questions and spend the time looking and listening.

While I'm not sure how many of my fellow executives were intent on learning Vipassana, it was clear that Goenka had touched u s . . . deeply. He made us feel, at least for that moment, that we had the power to make our work and lives mean something, that it could be important, that it could make a difference, and that we could learn to be happy if only we took the time to listen to what our souls were telling us.

I left refreshed and inspired, but I was sure that I would never learn Vipassana. Ten days with no conference calls, no power lunches, no talking . . . ten DAYS! Impossible. I could never find the time.

Then, suddenly, I had all the time in the world. After my departure from Starwood, one too many buttons had gone missing and I was in need of clarity—and happiness.

Until that moment, I thought I didn't have enough time, or courage, for ten days of introspection. But eventually I took the Vipassana course and learned, for what seemed the first time in my life, to slow down and truly listen. In the process I shed many—though not all—of the thoughts of what I "should" and "ought" to be doing.

If you commit yourself to finding your passion, that blue flame, it's interesting how that commitment is rewarded with answers. The answers that came to me after all that meditation helped me to reevaluate my pursuit of prestige and money and refocus on what I've always known matters most: relationships.

Vipassana certainly isn't the only way to get clarity, but so few of us give ourselves the time and space we need to come to a better understanding of who we are and what we really want. How had I—along with so many other perfectly capable and intelligent people I knew—allowed my life to get so far out of whack? By failing to ask ourselves the kinds of questions that are the most important: What is your passion? What truly gives you pleasure? How can you make a difference?

When I left the meditation course and got back to the routine of my life, I was like a kid in a candy store. There were so many people I wanted to meet! So many people I wanted to help! The pursuit of achievement could be, I realized, so much fun and so inspiring when you knew what was worthy of achieving.

We've been taught to see life as a quest, a journey that ends with, hopefully, meaning, love, and an IRA that will keep our golden years golden. There is, however, no end, no final arrival; the quest never quite ends. There is no one job title or one Brooks Brothers shirt or one dollar amount that can ever act as the ultimate finishing line. Which is why the achievement of some goals can feel as disappointing as failure.

Living a connected life leads one to take a different view. Life is less a quest than a quilt. We find meaning, love, and prosperity through the process of stitching together our bold attempts to help others find their own way in their lives. The relationships we weave become an exquisite and endless pattern.

There is a line in a lovely movie called How to Make an American Quilt that sums up this philosophy nicely: "Young lovers seek perfection. Old lovers sew shreds together and see beauty in the multiplicity of patches."

What will be the legacy of your own quilt? How will you be remembered? These questions are potent measuring sticks for anyone who cares about making a difference, not just making a living. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be the best in the world, as long as you remember that doing so also means wanting to be the best for the world.

Remember that love, reciprocity, and knowledge are not like bank accounts that grow smaller as you use them. Creativity begets more creativity, money begets more money, knowledge begets more knowledge, more friends beget more friends, success begets even more success. Most important, giving begets giving. At no time in history has this law of abundance been more apparent than in this connected age where the world increasingly functions in accord with networking principles.

Wherever you are in life right now, and whatever you know, is a result of the ideas, experiences, and people you have interacted with in your life, whether in person, through books and music, e-mail, or culture. There is no score to keep when abundance leads to even more abundance. So make a decision that from this day forward you will start making the contacts and accumulating the knowledge, experiences, and people to help you achieve your goals.

But first be honest with yourself. How much time are you ready to spend on reaching out and giving before you get? How many mentors do you have? How many people have you mentored? What do you love to do? How do you want to live? Whom do you want to be part of your quilt?

From my own experience, I can tell you the answers will come as a surprise. What's important probably won't come down to a job, a company, or a cool new piece of technology. It will come down to people. It's up to each of us, working together with people we love, to make the world a world we want to live in. As the anthropologist Margaret Mead once said, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." It is my hope that you have the tools to make that a reality. But you can't do it alone. We are all in this together. Make your quilt count.