What is it you do here?
I was heading into a meeting with Larry Ellison back when I worked at Oracle. It was a rare event for me, sitting in for my boss. Once word came that Larry was on his way, the executive in charge of our division, who had no idea who I was, casually leaned over and asked me, “What do you do here?”
In what will go down as one of the worst answers of my career, I responded, “I don’t know, you tell me.” Even as I write these words I cringe at my misplaced attempt at humor to diffuse my own nervous excitement. Guess it was the wrong answer — it was my first and last Larry meeting.
Over the years, I’ve seen many designers and product managers struggle with the same question. To hone in on the issue, let’s just focus on designers.
Most designers live inside an organization that hasn’t yet embraced design fully and that means they don’t typically weird the power. They often report to engineering or product management leaders. In the worst cases, they are order takers instead of being seen as an essential player in deciding what to build. Welcome to ‘make it pretty’ land.
In these laggard companies, you’ll hear questions like these directed at a design team:
Why do we need another designer? We should fund an engineer instead.
How hard is UX anyway? I’ll give you a Balsamiq file.
Can’t we just make it pretty at the end? You’re slowing us down.
You talk to customers? That’s what product managers do.
As design teams work to shift this mindset from one of design as a service to design as an integral part of the team and process, there is a fundamental error oft-repeated. They confuse what they do, with the outcome they provide. Let me explain.
Designers do a lot of things. They interview customers, build prototypes, user test products, document personas, sketch user journeys, and on and on. These are the stuff of design conferences. Conferences put on by designers, for designers. If you’re sitting in a room of such folks, drink deeply from the well and regale each other with stories of CSS gradients and Fitts’s Law.
However, when you are selling what you do, you are almost certainly not speaking to designers. The people you’re talking to are not interested in your craft. Frequently they don’t even care how you do what you do.
That’s not to say that craft can’t be a sales tool — it can be. And to those who care, it is a powerful differentiator, but your training, skills, and methods are all subservient to the outcome you’re delivering. If they want to know about your approach, they’ll ask.
When you’re buying furniture, you care about the cabinet. Does it have enough space? Is the finish durable? Do the drawers open and close smoothly? If any of these are substandard, no amount of storytelling will get it in the back of your minivan.
Made from hand-harvested baby eucalyptus? Coated with 100 coats of premium organic lacquer? Constructed by hand in the old way, without power tools? Great! Tell me more…if the product works.
How you did it is only relevant once you show you can do it.
Every job has an element of craft. Exploring that landscape is part of the joy of work and it is what keeps us interested. There are details behind the details, and to others who share our passion, the conversations can be deep and meaningful. But to our customers, both inside and outside the company, they first want to hear about the value we’re providing.
The next time you find yourself explaining what you do, to co-workers or prospective customers, don’t start by explaining your process, artifacts or the intricate details of your craft. Start from the outside-in, explain the value they will receive. Share the outcome you’re delivering and why it makes their life better. Then, and only then, after you’ve demonstrated an understanding of what matters to them, can you share your journey map and personas. If they ask, that is.
So, what is it that you do here?
“I make race cars.” — Carroll Shelby
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