"Lions cannot afford to hunt mice because they will literally starve to death, even if they catch them. Lions and all large carnivores have to hunt game large enough to justify the investment, so they have to hunt antelope and zebra. Why is this important? Because most senior executives are really big on chipmunks." ~Newt Gingrich   What are you hunting these days? I know. I know. Hundreds of people are going to write me back and say that they're plant-based (known to carnivores as "a missed steak" - ha!) but I am serious. Are you targeting rats or gazelles? I ask because these days I see far too many dinky tests and far too few big swings. Sure, many mega companies can get away with doing one-base tests because they do hundreds, sometimes even thousands, of tests each day. The majority of companies though? To grow their businesses, they need homeruns. One of the biggest homeruns I saw last … [Read more...]

“Can you take me to get new shoes instead of ice cream?” The little voice called from the backseat. “I REALLY need new shoes.” “Bud, you just got new shoes. Your Mom took you on Tuesday.” I replied, thinking how odd it was that the kid who’d trade both his brothers for a single M&M found in the crevices of a car seat, would be volunteering to give up top-your-own-yogurt-with-every-sugary-item-available-in-a-50-mile-radius for a pair of kicks. “I hate them.” He pouted. “They’re not fast. Milan says they’re the SLOWEST sneakers ever.” Ah, I should have known. Milan, the nastiest viper on the planet. Age 3. If there’s a time in your life where you question how men get to be exactly how they are, all you need to do is go to a playground with a bunch of 3-5 year olds. Little girls are vicious. But I digress… If I were the parent in this situation, I’d use this as some teachable moment about how you shouldn’t … [Read more...]

Check ALL Your From Addresses. It amazes me how many companies still email from hideous email addresses. Open Sky mails from Member Alert with subject lines like “look what we have found for you.” (Hello Spam filter, let’s get cozy.) Pomegranate mails from “contact us@” and Stonewall Kitchen mails from “content.” I love Stonewall’s products but CONTENT? What the hell has she done for me lately? Garnet Hill mails from “Customer Service” and Uno Allo Volta mails from “CustServ” as if they can’t be bothered. Not to mention, I get dozens of emails each week from “community” (not to be confused with communicable.) The majority of your email success happens outside the envelope: the "to" address, the "from" address, the subject line, the preview, the format, and the deliverability. Nail them all and your success rates will increase. Period. Work Your Unsubscribes. It frosts my a** that so many companies try to bamboozle people into not … [Read more...]

My right hand was turning a weird shade of eggplant-blue. My seatmate (let’s affectionately call her 3F) was clawing so hard and so fast, it wouldn’t be too long before her pointy nails laser-sharpened talons reached my wrist bone. Like many others on the plane, she was praying out loud, hailing Mary, Maria and any other M she could think of. Me? Not. So. Much. The odds of dying in a plane crash are in one in eleven million. (About the same as me getting married. In other words: NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.) I had exactly zero concerns about dying in a plane. 3F amputating my body parts before we stopped our turbulent freefall and leveled off? 90/10, in the scrappy grandmother’s favor. To distract myself from the possibility of losing my right limb in battle, I looked around. The seats in front of me were all filled with men. My inner-Jack from Lord of the Flies noted there wasn’t an Alpha Male in the bunch. If we do crash, I … [Read more...]

“I’m too hot. Hot damn. Girls hit your hallelujah. Cause I’m going to funkngiveittoya.” The ladies’ gasps were audible. While he danced and sang like nobody was watching (ahhh, the delicious irony), the other mothers stood fast and united behind their little ticket-peddling card tables.  With their dropped jaws and Restaylned lips, you could see the word bubbles forming over their heads as they looked at 3.0 (my youngest nephew) in abject horror: “YOUR GROWN-UP IS BAD.  She is a terrible, horrible, no good, VERY bad grown-up.” Apparently, none of them have heard the Bruno Mars Uptown Funk that plays NONFLIPPINGSTOP on the radio and/or can extrapolate the fact that most 3 year olds aren’t the best enunciators and it was FUNK with an –n, not with a –c. That’s what happens, you know. When a wee one does something, er, unfavorable, all empathy goes out the window and the adults in the room immediately look around … [Read more...]