Portigal Consulting | steve@portigal.com
Business case studies are the ultimate in reductionism: A complex business activity rooted in a specific context of people, company culture, time, and place is boiled down to a few key ideas. Consultants, designers, students, and people who read Malcolm Gladwell are especially prone to this form of simplifica-tion. Don’t get me wrong—these simplified stories can be helpful as touchstones. We just need to remember that they are often apocryphal archetypes more than investigative summaries.
With that in mind, I propose an incomplete framework for how companies go about making stuff (products, services, miscellaneous). In characterizing this as incomplete, I hope to hear about other approaches that will flesh out the framework.
Let’s call the first approach “Be a Genius and Get It Right.” The poster child for this is James Dyson. Dyson famously spent five years and built 5,127 prototypes in developing his Dual Cyclone vacuum cleaner. He reimagined the architecture and performance of a commodity product and built a premium brand around his approach to innovation. The company has developed other vacuum-cleaner innovations, such as The Ball, and has explored (so far without success) other home-appliance categories, such as refrigeration
and clothes washing. Regardless of how these products were really developed, a significant element of the Dyson brand involves the narrative of the single individual—a “genius” who brings powerful clarity of vision and an ability to execute.
In contrast, there’s “Be a Genius and Get It Wrong.” A strong example is Dean Kamen’s Segway. Kamen’s audacious vision for personal transportation in modern cities and Segway’s amazing technology captured everyone’s imagination when the device was first introduced. But the “best” technology doesn’t always win. Literature on innovation is filled with stories of path dependence and explanations for the failures of technologies like Sony’s consumer Betamax, the Dvorak Simplified Keyboard, or HP’s 100VG networking protocol. In Segway’s case, Kamen failed to understand the crucial importance that we place on how we look to others in a new behavior. The gestural language of Segway didn’t evoke the appropriate response. The gyrostabilized device itself rapidly became a comedy touchpoint on TV shows like “The Simpsons,” reaching an almost-literal tipping point when George Bush fell off one in 2003.
Meanwhile, Dean Kamen has developed another amazing technology: Luke (think
Skywalker and the hand that his father sliced off), a mind-control prosthetic robot arm. This could potentially offer amputees (and anyone else) a more learnable, precise, and intuitive prosthetic. But current prototypes of Luke evoke “Phantom Menace” more than phantom limbs and seem to deny the importance of cos-mesis, where artificial limbs are being made out of realistic-look-ing materials. Will Kamen eventually acknowledge the necessity of partnering form with function for our personal technologies? With Segway, sheer “genius” still led to a failed attempt at making stuff; let’s hope that Kamen avoids that pitfall with Luke.
Another common approach is “Don’t Ask Customers If This Is What They Want.” In 2006 the NBA and Spalding introduced a redesigned basketball. Replacing the traditional leather with the latest in material technology (i.e., synthetic microfiber), the ball was supposed to be easier to grip, more durable, and wear more consistently. The NBA did not consult players in the development of the ball or in the decision to adopt it, and they were understandably put off. Despite official insistence that the new ball was documented to be measurably better, the players gave voice to their objections. Eventually, NBA Commissioner David Stern reinstated the
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