December 23, 2009
PricewaterClaus

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"Necessity," it is said, "is the mother of invention."

It is.

But it is also the father, aunt, uncle, grandmother, cousin, and in-laws. Indeed, for most of us, unless there is a proverbial fire under our proverbial butt, we remain victims of the status quo. Objects at rest. Bumps on a log.

Allow me to be more specific.

The year was 1998. Although the U.S economy was in good shape, my business was flabby. The pipeline was clogged. The marketing plan was a mess. And our cash flow wasn't...

Semi-fearless leader that I was, I bought some muffins and called a meeting. It took us all of 20 minutes to realize we had three choices if we wanted to stay in business: cut costs, find new clients, or reinvigorate old clients.

Cutting costs wasn't an option. Costs were already cut. Finding new clients sounded good, but it also sounded like a lot of work. Reinvigorating old relationships, on the other hand, had a nice ring to it.

We decided to focus on local clients -- companies no more than two hours away. Singapore was out. New York City was in.

Being in the creativity business, we knew we'd have to walk the talk. Besides, Christmas was only two weeks away.

And so we decided to practice one of our own techniques and look at our challenge through the eyes of another, in this case -- Santa Claus. "How would he approach a major cash flow crunch?" we asked ourselves. "What would Santa do?"

The answer -- in an on-Dasher-on-Prancer-on-Vixen sort of way -- was obvious. Santa would take to the road. He'd visit people! He'd give out gifts!

The costume rentals cost us $300. I was Santa. Elizabeth was Mrs. Claus. Val was Rudolf. And Tiffany was the Chief Elf.

Our plan was simple.

We'd drive to Manhattan and pay surprise visits to three of our high flying ex-clients: MTV Networks, Met Life, and Pricewaterhouse. Once past security, we'd give away presents (that included our marketing materials) and get recipients to promise not to open them until Christmas morning.

Fast forward three hours...

There we are, the four of us in full Christmas regalia, standing in the tastefully appointed and very marble lobby of Pricewaterhouse. Behind the imposing front desk sat three large security guards, none of them named Prancer.

"I'd... er... uh... like to speak to Donna Chandler," I said, trying my best to channel my inner Santa.

Clearly, the security guard was not in the holiday spirit. His belly did not shake like a bowl full of jelly.

"And who shall I say wants to see Ms. Chandler?" the guard replied with a scowl.

I said nothing, hoping my long white beard and general joviality would be enough to grant us access.

It wasn't.

"Don't you recognize me, my friend?" I exclaimed. "It's me, Santa!"

"I'll need your real name, sir," the guard replied.

"My real name? It's Santa. Santa... Claus."

He shook his head and said something under his breath to the equally oversized security guard sitting next to him. Scroogily, he paged his way through a company directory and dialed the phone.

"Hello," I heard him say. "This is lobby security. There's a guy here to see you. He's dressed up liked Santa Claus and won't give me his name."

Other people came and went. Other people were given name badges. Other people walked merrily to the bank of elevators.

The four of us just stood there.

And then, quite unceremoniously, the large security guard with no visions of sugar plums dancing in his head called us forward.

"OK, Santa," he grumbled. "You and your little buddies can go up."

Yahoo!

The moment we got off the elevator, on the 27th floor, everyone flooded out of their offices. Everyone wanted to see us. These weren't auditors at a Big Six accounting firm. These weren't MBAs or tax geeks. These were big kids in business clothes.

Three very cheerful women led us to their office. Boldly, they sat me down in an overpriced executive chair and, one by one, sat in my lap.

"Have you been good little girls," I said on cue.

"Oh YES, Santa!" they giggled.

"And what do you good little girls want for Christmas?" I asked.

"Better cash flow, Santa. Promotions. Vacations. And a cappuccino machine in the lounge."

I reached into my bag and pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift for each of them.

"Will you promise Santa not to open your presents until Christmas morning?" I said.

"Oh yes, Santa!" they exclaimed.

And then, with a shake of some strategically placed jingle bells, we were off.

On Dasher! On Rudolf! On Cash Flow!

Out of the office, we turned right at the fire drill sign, went down 27 floors to the tastefully appointed lobby and skipped out the door to our next former client, spreading Christmas cheer and marketing materials, ho ho hoping like children the night before Christmas, dreaming of clients dreaming of first quarter results and calling us the first day back on the job after the holidays...

Guess what? They did.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT
1. What can you do differently this week to get a huge result?
2. What boundary is it time to cross?
3. Who else is willing to join forces with you to take a risk?

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Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at December 23, 2009 12:19 AM

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