YOU AIN'T GONNA LEARN WHAT YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW

Shake a Leg

 

 

 

I stepped on the accelerator. 

The faster the rental car went, the more emotional I got. 

Tears seemed to rain down, non-stop from my watery eyes, all

over my cheeks, and onto my blue shirt. 

I just erupted, and had a colossal meltdown in the biggest meeting of my life. 

60 minutes earlier.......

A room full of people were waiting for me in a conference room.

Some were conferenced in, via WEBCAM over many countries -- there were perhaps 10 people dialed in, and watching me over their TV screen. 

Boston, NY, Japan, London, and somewhere in South America.  They all identified themselves by name, I could hear all the accents.  

As I walked in, the young woman led me to a chair. 

She said to me as I approached the leather chair at the head of the table, "Try not to move to much, the camera is right in front of you, and you have a diverse audience who would like to see you speak." 

All, I kept thinking was --- "I cannot move?" 

Before I even was able to utter a word, here is what I heard. 

"Andy, welcome - and thanks for doing this -- before we start, some ground rules."   (I'm paraphrasing, and injecting my own bias into what I remember) 

The man continued --- "try not to move too much, look in the camera, be brief with your answers, and most important of all -- speak slowly, as your speech needs to be both transcribed, and translated for the different countries where our people are located." 

I started to sweat. 

All I remember is that I wanted to puke.   Suddenly, I had to pee, and at that very moment -- going to the men's room became the most important thing in my life.

I can't move?   Movement for me is part of the creative process.   I like to pace, point out things on the screen, and demonstrate my passion through -- well, moving.  

The questions were rapid, and merciless.  

 

I did not have the answers.

"I do not know." 

"I will find out and get back to you." 

"I'm sorry, I do not have the answer." 

I drove directly to the airport, drank 6 drinks in the airport bar -- all while waiting for my 3:21pm United flight back to Newark.   (I had taken the 6am flight out that morning, and I sometimes do the day trips to the west coast to make a meeting) 

All I kept thinking on the plane was, "what could I have done differently?" 

I was embarrassed, ashamed, and feeling that I just had the biggest meltdown of all time.    

The vodka did not dull the pain. 

I had missed, and missed big. 

Sometimes, we are our own biggest critics, and my personality has me squarely (and severely) consistently hammering myself over mistakes (both personal and professional) 

Missed putts in golf.   Missed events for the kids.   Communicating poorly.   

Missing an opportunity. 

The next morning, I got a phone call. 

"Andrew, great meeting yesterday -- everyone loved you, and appreciated you being there.   You did great.   We will be sending you at the close of business today, a term sheet (offer) from our firm to invest $10 million dollars into your company." 

I dropped the phone. 

I thought this was a prank. 

My response, was one of bewilderment --- "But, I thought I sucked -- I truly thought that my presence, answers, and way I handled myself was a failure, beyond repair." 

He came back, "Are you kidding -- you were honest, and when you did not know something, you did not make it up -- its refreshing to see and hear, a nervous, fear of failure type entrepreneur --- who can admit when you are out of your league, and just plain dont have the answers to complex questions."

 He continued -- "We invest in people, and we liked your energy, style and composure."

All three (energy, style, and composure) sucked big time, from my perspective. 

I ended up NOT taking their money.    I chose 3 partners who have remained trusted confidants, counselors, board members, and role models. 

I passed on taking their money -- because the vibe that they left me with, the way that they made me feel about myself for the entire flight home -- was a clear message to me. 

You can be your own critic, but do not become partners (on any level) with people you cannot read, identify with, or quickly understand.   

*******************************************************************

I drove 200 miles for this interview. 

I knew if I got offered this job, it was going to involve a pay cut of incredible dollars.   

In our interview, he got up on the table.   He jumped up and down with so much energy when talking about his vision, his passion, and his commitment to making the company a success, that I was mesmerized.  

I left my job to take a role, in an industry that I knew little about, but I knew it would be life altering.  

The main reason I took the new challenge and new job at this new company, was the movement during the interview of the founder, it was his physical approach during the interview that told my soul....

"I want to work for this guy." 

I took a massive (I mean massive) pay cut to work for this gentleman, and he repaid me in more ways, than money.   He taught me so much about business, about passion, and about being yourself. 

And, more than money -- this is what he wrote about me back in 2006.   

 

"Andy is a natural born leader.  He commands presence.  He is affable, charming, confident, passionate, and credible.  People want to follow him.  He created our New York Sales office. Andy built, from scratch, an organization that currently generates over $100 million in revenue a year.  To accomplish this goal, he needed to be an entrepreneur, a developer of others, and an organization builder.

 

His strategic insight is uncanny.  He bats 1.000 on all market, customer, and people ideas he has ever brought to my attention.  No one I have ever worked with has been this accurate in their understanding of such complex and difficult issues.  In addition, he is often the lone contrarian in a group when the issue gets to my attention, and he turns out to be right all of the time.  I find this truly remarkable given my statistical education, training, practice, and the size of my data set [>1000 people]. "

 

 

Sometimes, it takes a need to gamble on our instinct.

Sometimes you need to move. 

But, when I could not feel good about being myself, in that board room in California many years ago -- I knew, like we all do -- that instinct of "something aint right." 

And, I blamed myself mistakenly during that vodka fueled flight home.     

I more than made up for it -- by trusting my instinct -- and putting myself in a position to be able to MOVE. 

"Andy, sit in that chair, and try not to move too much." 

No thanks, I dont want your chair.   

I'm moving.    

 

Winning the Pool

 

 

I saw him give the man $20.

 

But, why?  

 

“Pay special attention to the kid,” he muttered to the young man wearing rubber pants.

 

Why did he just hand that man $20, and try to hide it from me?

 

I was 10 years old, and my Uncle Irv was taking me for the first time, on one of his weekly trips, to go deep sea fishing – in Point Pleasant, NJ. 

 

 

We had a prime spot in the back of the boat.   Camped out, on the Norma K.  

 

The boat left at 7am, but here we were at 6am, ready to go --- sitting and waiting as grizzled old men came on with all their equipment, coolers, rods, and big bodies.

 

He knew almost all of them.    He exchanged greetings with nearly all of the old-timers as they entered the boat. 

 

I thought it was some kind of “fishing fraternity” that one day I would be lucky enough to be included in.

 

A man came by, and my Uncle handed him ANOTHER $10, but why?

 

“Uncle Irv, why did you just hand that man $10?” I asked. 

 

“Andrew, we are in the pool, and the money goes to the person on the boat that catches the biggest fish.”

 

That day, my very first day fishing --- I won the pool.

 

The mates who worked on the Norma K boat, were by my side most of the day.   My lines that day never got tangled with other fisherman,  and my fishing rod was always in the perfect spot – the nets (to grab the fish) were always right near me – and the coaching from the Captain up on the deck --- was seemingly just behind my ear.

 

 

“Boy, jiggle the pole a little bit --- let it sit on the bottom, and every 10 seconds give it a little tug”

 

I caught a big old fluke – my very first time catching a fish.

 

I was hooked, and so was the fish.

 

As I pocketed the $90  – I was incredibly full of myself --I was thrilled, and I really felt in my heart that I was a good -- no I was a GREAT fisherman.     

 

 

Truth is, I wasn’t.  

 

 

 

“Andrew, you need to give some of that money to the mates, who helped you today” --- my Uncle blurted out to me, as we were preparing to get off the boat.

 

 

“What do you mean, that’s MY MONEY”  I replied – as if I knew more than him.  He made no sense.   

 

 

He then proceeded to tell me, and more importantly show me --- just how important that act of, thankfulness, acknowledgment – and generosity can be.

 

 

“Andrew, you would not have won that money – had those mates not made your day enjoyable – through teaching – assisting you, and being positive…..they made the day fun for you – and gave you special attention.”

 

And he went on – “because of them, you won that money –  and never forget it.”

 

I gave the mates $40 out of my pool winnings  -- and still came home with $50 – a tidy sum for a 10 year old – who only understood money via a paper route – where you could make $3 a week.   I had never given $40 to anyone before (my money) – it seemed like a lot to hand over – but I did it. 

 

Fishing with my Uncle Irv became a monthly event from the time I was 10, until I went to college……and then it stopped.

 

 

********************************************************************************* 

 

 

Her ashtray was filled.   It smelled in her office.

 

 

Her voice sounded like she ate gravel for breakfast.

 

 

She was a small woman, who could make anyone in her presence seem to shrink in size and stature.   She was small, but dwarfed all who she came in contact with.    

 

 

She raised her voice when needed – and she demanded respect.

 

 

“You will be at my office Sunday morning at 7am – and work until the job is complete.”   Her eyes never left the document she was reading.   She spoke to the paper in her hand, but directed her words at me.  

 

 

I said, “Of course I will.”

 

 

She made me work hard – and I was rewarded like never before.

 

 

I earned her trust – and for that --- I always felt like, and believed that I could not let her down.

 

“Andrew, don’t forget why you are here – you are here because I believe in YOU.  You can and will do, great things."

 

Those words, drew me closer to her.   Those words – made me a fan, a follower, and she held in my eyes almost cult like status.

 

 Some other people that worked for her bad-mouthed her behind her back.

 

 

She changed my life, and earned my lifelong loyalty.

 

 

The year was 1997, and I was working on a large project.  She was the leader of a massive (one of the worlds largest at the time) document projects.      

 

It was Christmas – and she made her staff (including me) come to work – on Christmas Day – because the deadline for the project was the December 27^th – and the work needed to be completed in the next 2 days.

 

 

People worked double shifts.  

 

 

There is something uniquely bonding in a weird way about working on a holiday.  Regardless of religion – it’s a bonding, and perhaps even a relationship building experience --  (that I don’t recommend) but it will surely make you closer to your co-workers, like few other team building events.    

 

 

As we ended the double shift on Christmas night – she had the 20 or so people come stand outside her office, and thanked each of them.

 

 

“I will pay each of you back with MORE than money.   I thank each of you for helping us to finish this project – and for your support and dedication to our company – and your job.”

 

As I walked down 6^th Ave in the cold December night, I felt good.

 

The streets of NYC were eerily empty on that Christmas night.  

 

I had energy.   More good energy than I should, or deserved.  

 

 

 

****************************************************************************************** 

 

 

I was screaming, “Take it out – rip it out…”

 

I was drinking Tequila straight from the bottle as I was lying on my stomach, face first on a kitchen table -- in the galley of the boat.

 

It was Summer of 1992, I was in San Diego on a fishing boat, and the extremely drunk guy fishing next to me, went to throw his big hook over the side – but instead put the 8 inch hook into my back – a quarter inch from my spine.

 

The hook got lodged deep in my back – and he tried yank it quickly – using his rod, not knowing at that moment that the hook was under my skin. 

 

It went in deeper. 

 

 

I was in so much pain, and bleeding everywhere, that I was nearly in shock.  

 

 

 

Everyone who tried to pull it out had comments, like “Ugggh, that looks bad, really bad, we need to cut this trip short and go back to land.”

 

 

“He is gonna need a lot of stiches, and perhaps surgery to get the hook out.”

 

 

A hook has barbed wires.   The barb was lodged 2-3 inches under the skin.   MY SKIN.  

 

I got off the boat, and went to the hospital.

   

 

It took 26 stiches, both "under the skin" and next to my spine to close the wound. 

 

The mate from the fishing boat drove me to the hospital, as soon as the boat docked. 

 

 

The mate, stayed with me -- and drove me home, and constantly called, and brought over food, while I healed. 

 

 

Lee changed my bandages, and put anti infection medicine on my wound. 

 

My family was 3000 miles away.  

 

He was a stranger, but that fishing mate named Lee, helped me. 

 

I won the pool.   

 

The $40 tip I gave to the mates on the Norma K fishing boat, when I won the pool that day with my Uncle -- paid dividends down the road. 

 

Far more than I deserved. 

 

In every way.   

 

 

 

 

 

Be Honest from the Get Go *

 

 

The ability to Arbitrage exists because there are market inefficiencies. 

 

Two leaders of the digital industry (both from WPP) weighed in on their transparency, their model of making money and their views --- both centered on arbitrage, and evolving business models inside of holding companies (trading desks).

 

Background is here and here.   

 

Arbitrage is needed, and often times welcomed, in most places around the world in order to keep markets balanced, advance certain technology that exploits spreads (supply vs demand), and allow for people to help balance an imbalance in the market. 

 

But, you know where it does not work? 

 

Arbitrage does not work when you cannot disclose who you are "ARB'ing" for.   Who exactly are you MAXIMIZING THE OPPORTUNITY FOR? 

 

Who do you maximize the profit, the spread, or the market inefficiency for?  It's an important, yet easily evaded point. 

 

Yourself?   Your clients?   Your largest clients?   Your bottom line?

 

Do you have a target margin that you aim for when ARB'ing? 

 

Transparency has multiple masters, and the first one is honesty.

 

So, I ask the following simple questions  to the leaders of WPP.

 

1) Regarding your trading desk(s) -- who do you optimize for and in what order, your profit margin, or your client's best interest? 

 

2) Do you share knowledge across clients (critical intelligence and learnings) and if so, do the largest spenders (biggest clients) pay for the learnings, so that smaller clients benefit? 

 

3) What is the range of margin that you seek to exploit in the arbitrage world?   In the media landscape (pre trading desks) target margins that agencies published and were transparent about ranged from 15% to 25%. Can you provide guidelines or a range on your arbitrage model regarding trading desks? 

 

4) Should publishers be more knowledgable about the practices of ARB'ing that trading desks have been executing on, and do you think that you as a trading desk have been fully transparent with them about your business model and practice? 

 

5) Do you think that trading desks are just glorified and evolved ad networks, with the advertisers being the holding companies clients?   Did you not just reduce the networks revenue (Ad.com, Valueclick, Tribal Fusion, Collective, Specific, CPX, Undertone) and move that spending to your "self-interest" trading desks? 

 

I love ARBing.  I really do.   I just do not like it when people do it without disclosure. 

 

It hurts our industry, and it lends to questions about motives. 

 

I've raised these points and asked these questions for many years.   

 

Still waiting for answers, but not holding my breath. 

 

Blue is not my favorite color.   

 

 

Carolier Roller Rink

 

As we sat together, he kept asking me probing questions. 

 

 

“What does your product pipeline look like?” 

 

 

“What is your three year revenue plan?” 

 

 

 

“Who are your biggest clients, and what prospect are in your pipeline to close in the next two quarters?” 

 

 

I answered all of his questions.    

 

 

He took notes.   He filled up 3 pages in his notebook -- of my confidential plans.  

 

 

As he left, we shook hands, and said he would be touch.  I liked him,  and he seemed genuinely interested in Lotame.    

 

 

“Andy, I love your business --- lets try to find a way to work together, I will be in touch shortly.” 

 

 

2 weeks later, as I was sitting at my desk, drinking my morning coffee – I was skimming the news, and reading industry updates. 

 

 

The guy who I gave all the information to, just 2 weeks prior had his picture plastered in front of me……

 

 

He led a large venture capital round with my biggest competitor.   The guy who asked me the probing questions, about my business – led a $20 million dollar round in a competing company.   The guy who took 3 pages of copious, detailed notes about my business…….

 

 

I was crushed.   I blamed myself, and vowed not to let it happen again. 

 

*********************************************************** 

 

 

As the car pulled up the to front of the roller rink, I slide out of the back of our family's cream colored station wagon…..and into Carolier Roller Rink…..

 

Carolier Roller Rink was the hip joint in East Brunswick in 1980.   It was the place that 12 year olds could act cool, skate around, play video games -- and be independent.  

 

What was cooler than roller skating on Saturday afternoons in the winter months?  (When there was no team sports going on)

 

Drop off at 1pm, pick up at 4pm,  and all for less than $10 dollars.  

 

As you walked into the roller rink, the eyes had to adjust – from bright daylight, to darkness. 

 

The only illumination on the roller rink, was the glare and glitter of the disco ball, in the middle of the large, expansive room.    

 

 

One girl was the best skater and the prettiest.   Her name was Suzy. 

 

I had a crush on her. 

 

I was always afraid, always hesitant to ask Suzy to skate with me during the “couples only” skate.   I was shy, and deathly afraid of rejection. 

 

I told my friend at the rink, as the couple's only skate time was about to be announced....I proclaimed to him.....

 

“I would give anything to skate with Suzy, I’m just too embarrassed to ask her to skate with me.” 

 

Skating in the couples only session, required the holding of hands.    A real, genuine deal breaker for a shy 12 yr old, with sweaty palms. 

 

 

I think it might have been Donna Summer, or it could have been Peaches and Herb playing during the couples skate…..

 

I cant remember. 

 

 

Going to get a stale pretzel during the couples skate that I wasn’t participating in was typical of me – in order to kill time – until FREE SKATE was opened back up for the shy folks, unwilling to stick out their necks, guys like me -- afraid of asking Suzy to skate……. 

 

 

My friend who I told about my affection and crush on Suzy, was skating with her.   Holding hands --- going in circles around the rink.  

 

 

I was crushed.   I was burning with jealousy – I wanted to punch his lights out. 

 

 

“How could you, how could you ask Suzy when you knew I liked her – when you knew….?”  

 

 

He replied, “Because, because you were too chicken, and I knew I could, and you wouldn’t.” 

 

 

I never EVER trusted him again.   We remained friends for many years, but I never forgot the feeling of hurt, disappointment, and rage – that I felt that Saturday afternoon in 1980. 

 

 

And yet, I see my kids going through challenges, dealing with rejection, and dealing with similar situations – like the one that I faced at Carolier Roller Rink.    Tension amongst peers, jealously, embarrassment, and deep feelings of hurt.   

 

I want to help. 

 

I want to tell them it will be OK. 

 

 

I want to tell them that, “hurt, failure and despair” are all a part of the journey – and it is how you deal with it that matters the most……

 

 

But, I cant. 

 

 

I want them to experience it all for themselves.    I don’t want to lecture, minimize, or tell them that --- “this too shall pass.” 

 

It wont. 

 

 

The hurt, the shame and the embarrassment are a constant in life.     

 

 

I’ve failed, and felt the pain…..too many times to count.   

 

 

Its better to feel the sting of it early.   Its better to understand -- the depths of hurt and anguish – as you see Suzy holding hands with your friend, as they skate to The Knack, or SuperTramp --- in an endless Couples Skate, while you eat a salty pretzel. 

 

 

Spicy mustard makes it go down easier.   

 

 

Busting out of the Frame

 

Frames around a picture, constrain an image.

 

 

If you come to any of our Lotame offices, you will see pictures hanging all around the office, lining nearly every wall.

 

 

I am not, nor do I ever pretend to be a decent photographer. 

 

 

In fact, I’m pretty lousy.

 

 

But, I love taking pictures, developing them, framing them, and then hanging them somewhere in my life.

 

 

And, sometimes when I look at them, I see something totally different, and unique – that I missed when I chose to hang it -- on the proverbial, wall of my life.

 

 

Shakedown Street is a well known, and popular song by the Grateful Dead.

 

 

“Don’t tell me this town aint got no heart,

you just gotta poke around.”

 

 

 

The song has a distinct frame.   The frame is the chord progression, the frame, is the bridge……the frame, is the funky bass beat the permeates through the listener, and draws you closer…..

 

 

“Nothing shaking on Shakedown Street,

it used to be the heart of town……”

 

 

 

As the frame of the song progresses…”you can never tell….”

 

 

BAM!

 

You get hit with the picture.   The picture (image) is the part of the song, that is the canvas – the blank area that allows for creativity, freedom, and energy……

 

The frame falls away.   There is no surrounding guide – nothing holding the image of sound in place….

 

 

You are left to a jaw dropping, intense, art form – that envelopes the listener, that consumes the senses, and draws you in…..

 

 

 

The band unleashes a tidal wave, that in a period of 10 minutes reveals so much about the period of time they are in, the tour, and where they each were creatively at the very moment, that this particular picture offers to the listener… (or piece of audio reveals)

 

 

1979 is different than 1980.

1985 is VERY different than 1989.

 

 

They are all special, all unique – and all so very image capturing – even though they are not images at all……

 

 

They are images of sound, images of light, images of soul,  all captured on tape….

 

 

Then, the proverbial frame comes back into play, the song –the reality of control, discipline, the bridge re-emerges, and it brings Shakedown to a close…..and order is restored.   The frame returns to assume control, and stop the chaos.

 

 **************************************************

 

 

“What are you going to do with your life?”

 

“How are you going to live?”

 

“How are you going to handle the situation?”

 

“What is your next move?”

 

“What is your decision?”

 

 

All of us have faced these questions in some form or another.   All of us have wandered into the unknown territory, and stretched ourselves into places that, truly place us in unchartered waters…

 

We get away from the frame.  

 

Into the center of the image, our life’s image – it is where our creativity flourishes, and where the sound, the energy, and the “jam of Shakedown happens” in each of our lives…..

 

No frame. 

 

It’s what defines you.

 

When we are young, we are defined and disciplined, by a frame around our lives….

 

As we mature, and grow older --  that FRAME slowly fades away – and the frame appears now and again……but, more often than not --  we are guided by the collective energy of our, jamming together….or alone, that helps creates energy, spirituality, and self perception, of  precisely who we are.   It defines us. 

 

For some, life without a frame is daunting, and scary.  

 

Many embrace it – and love having no frame around them whatsoever.

 

Well, I sure don't know
What I'm goin' for
But I'm gonna go for it, 
That's for sure.  

 

Instinct cant be taught.

 

 

You are in the jam. 

 

 

Right now, you are in the arena – in the fight – and you are the image, without a frame….

 

 

I recently spent time with a 90 year old woman, who told me that the scariest part of growing old, was in fact, not the aging aspect of what the years do to your body physically,  and how it renders your ability to move around problematic, but….

 

It was the frame.

 

“Andy, all of a sudden  -- you wake up one day, and have no freedom.  Your kids become your parent, there are all these rules, and disciplines placed on me at every turn.  I’m restricted at what I can decide, do, and influence.   I’m going through the motions, but I’ve got no say.  I’m here in body only, and barely even that……”

 

The frame dominates her life.    The frame placed around her as a young child, re-emerged….

 

 

Not the image in the middle.   Not the jam.   Not the creativity to decide, or choose…

 

 

And like your health, you don’t value it, until it is gone.   Vanished.   

 

 

The centerpiece of life……the jam, the image……

 

 

Replaced by a frame.  A bridge, a chorus – and black wooden fence surrounding the image, inside the picture on the wall of life….

 

 

I have a friend living in an airport hotel.   His life, his journey took him on a path that he wanted…..the frame was taken from him early in life – and he was squarely placed into the image at a young age.   (The death of a parent, can remove the guidance and discipline a frame offers….)

 

He is struggling with the image of his life that he has created of himself, and is working to improve it.   I wish him the best.   

 

I have other friends who are tremendously successful, and their image is beautiful, fulfilling, and full of good energy…..

 

 

The pictures lining the walls of my office contain no people that I know.  Complete strangers going about their lives….smoking, drinking, laughing, playing – and I know absolutely none of them.

 

Weird, eh?

 

They are all in the JAM.   I captured them squarely in their creative state…..

 

 

“Sometimes we live no particular way but our own,

sometimes we visit your country,  and live in your home –

sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone –

sometimes the songs that we hear, are just songs of our own.”

 

 

Life’s frame is coming your way soon enough.  

 

I hope your personal jam is as fulfilling as Shakedown is, and that your image is maximizing who you are, and who you could be......

 

If it isn’t, bust out of your IFRAME.  

 

 

How Newspapers Can Save Themselves

Cross posting from Adexchanger to here, as my piece on the Newspaper industry ran today.   

 

How Newspapers Can Save Themselves

January 11th, 2013 - 12:05 am By AdExchanger

“Data Driven Thinking” is written by members of the media community and contains fresh ideas on the digital revolution in media. 

Today’s column is written by Andy Monfried, CEO of Lotame. 

Old-school newspaper people are generally hard working, gritty, risk taking, roll-up-your-sleeve folks who aren’t afraid to go the extra mile. They will do anything to get the story and get it to their readers. As of late, many traditional newspaper companies have become the story. A story of falling ad revenue, of digital revenue failing to make up the gap, and of younger people increasingly less likely ever to develop the habit of buying a printed newspaper. Newspaper executives know they need to change the way they do business.

Here are five steps that can save the newspaper business in the face of this inevitable and monumental change — change that is crushing an entire industry, in the same way that Henry Ford’s cars crushed the horse-and-buggy trade in the early 1900′s.

1) Stop paying lip service to digital and quickly hire or move appropriate resources to digital. Too often we hear executives tell us how important digital is to their future, and how they are spending so much time and energy on it. And yet I’m frequently surprised by the significantly under-resourced digital teams we encounter in the news vertical, especially when it comes to bread-and-butter operations experts required to power a 2013 digital advertising strategy. Bottom line, news businesses need to invest more than words into (and onto) the digital team.

2) Bring your offline data online. Newspapers have home addresses of both current and former subscribers (and often other relevant customer data as well). Bring all of that information and data online — and partner with a reputable, privacy-compliant firm to do the matching to a cookie. This is a no-brainer, and frankly one that speaks back to point #1, above.

3) Become a technology company. “This is not in the DNA of newspapers” is something I hear all of the time. Well, you’d better start inserting it into your DNA, or you won’t be around much longer. And there’s no excuse not to. It’s become simple enough for each publication to employ data management, robust analytics, and customization tools across their content. It’s an inexcusable failure when a newspaper cannot tell each advertiser the size of the actual audience who viewed their ad and took some kind of action — or didn’t. Content holders are in an ideal position to harvest this information, but when will they share this kind of learning and information with their brands?

4) Give away tablets to subscribers. Think iPad, Kindle, or some customized device that receives only the content of that newspaper. Have advertisers help defray the cost by sponsoring it with their logo. Consumers have already moved to mobile devices anyway — give away a piece of inexpensive technology to deliver content. Then, cut back to three days a week of print, as the New Orleans Times Picayune has done, with others surely to follow. The people who complain about not getting their daily newspaper will have a tablet from their newspaper to read.

5) Stop making incremental changes. Make bold moves. The newspaper industry is like a big cruise ship, unable to quickly change course in the face of a big storm ahead. Executives who make large, decisive bets around digital will win.  Those who don’t will be interviewing for jobs soon, most likely in digital, anyway.

Any newspapers that are not following steps like those outlined above need to start doing so immediately. Some already have. The Atlantic, a major publisher, now generates more revenue from digital than it does from print, a milestone achieved by embracing these kinds of changes. Don’t say it can’t be done; they did it.

Follow Andy Monfried (@andymonfried) and AdExchanger (@adexchanger) on Twitter.

 

Call to Action

 

 

The murder and carnage in Newtown, CT has broken the hearts of an entire nation. 

 

 

If there is an American adult who has not been moved by this brutal act of savagery, I would be amazed. 

 

 

A tear, a lump in the throat, a kick in the gut --- these are all emotions I believe many of us have felt the last few days. 

 

 

 

Let me start out by saying clearly and for the record -- I do not believe an act like this could have been prevented.    I truly believe in my heart, that a mentally unstable person (or just evil person) who is hell bent on destruction, will find the means and path to acquire a weapon of some sort, with the intent to cause damage. 

 

 

 

However, I would like to quickly share with you how I think future "Adam Lanzas" might be at best - provided the requisite level of mental healthcare and monitoring and at worst -- caught earlier before they wreck havoc on a school, a town, a state -- a nation --- and 28 families town apart by the bullets of a madman. 

 

 

DATA. 

 

 

I said it. 

 

 

 

DATA. 

 

 

I work in the field of data management.    Namely, my company helps marketers and publishers understand all the anonymous online user data (and information) at their fingertips --- understand it, segment it -- and use in some manner it to drive a result. 

 

 

The result could be to drive more sales of particular products or services. 

 

 

Or, personalize an online experience for a consumer.

 

Or, a recommendation engine for a consumer.

 

Or, yield strong guesses around something called, predictive analysis. 

 

 

Once again, I do not think anything could have been done to prevent Adam Lanza's murdering of an entire grade school classroom.   

 

 

There were no outward signs, no criminal history (that has been released to date).   He was home-schooled, and attended college earlier than many his age.  (age 16) 

 

 

But, he, like most of us displayed certain patterns.   However, Lanza’s behavior most likely yielded some kind of "data exhaust" that might be IDENTIFIERS of his propensity towards "violence"  “violent behavior” or at the least extremely, volatile behavior.

 

 

 

Data exhaust, (examples)could be: 

 

a) public registration data  

b) online browsing patterns, (types of web sites) 

c) online chat rooms where comments were left that would indicate his short term or long term intentions (footprints) 

d) videos watched and uploaded 

 

 

There are many more "offline" components -- but these four ONLINE components are examples, are "breadcrumbs" that could be used to recognize patterns. 

 

 

 

Not one of the anonymous components alone mean anything at all -- but when pieced together using logic, using technology -- and UNIFYING THEM -- WE BEGIN TO SEE A SEGMENT, A PROFILE.....

 

 

 

And, when you unify it together, you can glean and realize the profile of Adam Lanza. The profile, that when passed to the skilled mental health professional or trained law enforcement, could have resulted in something other than -- a nation in disbelief, at such an act of senseless violence, yet AGAIN.

 

 

 

Do the Columbine Killers, Virginia Tech murders, Aurora, Colorado murders, and the Sandy Hook mass murder display similar patterns?   Did they emit similar "data exhaust characteristics?" 

 

Could these behaviors, when pieced together -- could they possibly have rolled up into a taxonomy, that puts these people on the equivalent of a "do not fly list?" 

 

Could this taxonomy of people (who are identified as higher likelihood to have violent tendencies) be used to "market to"  (ie. target with messaging) about opportunities to get mental health, and how easy it is to receive help? 

 

 

 

I don't know the answer, and neither do you; but that is the point, the technology to find out the answer already exists..

 

 

But, tackling the gun control problem might not be the only answer.   We need to look at the entire mental health system, our enforcement of certain laws, and try to come up with ways to assist people in need, much more so than we do now.  As a nation we need to demand that our elected officials appropriate adequate funds to public safety and that means, more than first responder overtime.  Assigning hundreds of mental healthcare professionals to schools to help treat mental illness is not scalable.  Technology may (a part) be a scalable way to address some of these issues that are woefully neglected.

 

 

Is there a possibility to leverage technology to: 

 

a) respect user privacy 

b) use technology to identify patterns of "highly violent" types of behaviors, and score them for mental health professional and/or law enforcement? 

c) do so in a way that is highly confidential 

 

 

Its been said that this is too much like "Big Brother."   Too much invasion of privacy. 

 

 

I disagree.   I think it is for the "public good."   I do think we are entering a different era in our relationship with our society, and each other --  and arguably we entered into that era, nearly 11 years ago. 

 

 

Ask any of those parents from Newtown CT, or Aurora, CO if they would have welcomed some kind of "recommendation engine" that might have alerted mental health officials to the patterns of violence, from someone in their midst. 

 

 

The data could be held private, but the use of it (data) may subject to action by a group mental health officials. 

 

 

After 2001, we developed a whole department of our Federal Government, called "Homeland Security."   It's mission was to make sure that technology, tools, and laws were in place, and actionable to prevent another 9-11.  

 

 

 

 

Can we use the mass killings of our children, in their school and movie theaters to rise up -- and leverage data to build audiences of profiles prone to violent behavior.  Yes, innovative technology and tools can be used in the context of protecting our youngest residents from all sorts of evils.

 

 

 

It's not illegal to be violent.   It's illegal when violence crosses into murder. 

 

 

So many people are willing to give up their "right to bear arms" -- an amendment placed second by our forefathers, in the order of importance of amendments......

 

 

 

Times were different then, than they are now. 

 

 

Guns are more powerful. 

 

 

So, are the problems that Government, and society faces. 

 

 

Technology will help leverage the playing field by providing a highly skilled and trained army, by leveraging public information --  in the fight to protect our nation, and our children. 

 

 

It's time BIG DATA is used to save lives, and not just be used by advertisers and publishers looking to "Activate" or "Drive a Result." 

 

Make no mistake, DATA will not always identify people like Adam Lanza who have pure evil in their hearts.   But, their actions (which can be identified and segmented) before a catastrophic event leave an important trail.   Let's use it.   (It is no surprise that he destroyed his computer hard drives, in an attempt to mask his behaviors) 

 

 

Protect rights, while ensuring safety.   It's needed now......

 

To protect our most important asset. 

 

Our children.   

 

My Cornfield

 

 

 

I was lost. 

 

 

In the cornfield. 

 

 

This was supposed to be fun.   It was anything but fun for me.   

 

 

I started to panic.   

 

 

I yelled and no one responded to me......

 

 

Where was I?   How did I end up getting separated from the people I came here with, and why could no one hear my voice? 

 

 

The corn was in late season of summer.   The stalks in the field I was lost in were well above my head.  

 

 

 

I started to run. 

 

 

I could not catch my breath. 

 

 

Weird thoughts started to enter my psyche.    Would I die in this cornfield?   How would they find me? 

 

 

Would my body be decomposed when they find me, or alive --  and barely hanging on? 

 

 

It was before cell phones.    I was alone and panicked. 

 

 

Nothing but my brain, my emotions, and my nervous energy -- were with me that late afternoon......in the cornfields of Middlebush, NJ. 

 

 

 

I came out. 

 

 

Found my way. 

 

****************************************

 

 

Being lost in a cornfield is alot like starting a company. 

 

 

You can run everywhere.   You can sprint through the rows of endless cornstalks and still be lost......never moving forward or backwards. 

 

 

Rather, you run in a big circle. 

 

 

Thinking you make progress, but you dont. 

 

But, you dont know it.   You dont know how you are doing.   There is no compass, and there is no daily GPS system to track you.   

 

 

There is no one to tell you.   No one to guide your journey.

 

 

No one to hold your hand. 

 

 

So you wait. 

 

 

You look for signs.  Signs from employees.  Signs from clients.   Signals from prospects. 

 

 

You look at your pipeline of business.   The roadmap. 

 

 

 

And, still you seem and feel as though the cornstalks are super high around your head, not allowing you to see....

 

 

 

You still seem as though you can't see the full path to win, or to remove yourself from the eternal riddle of the cornfield. 

 

 

 

And, you plow on.  

 

 

Nervous. 

 

 

 

Running at times, walking at others  -- but constantly in a state of insecurity.  

 

 

 

Anyone who starts a company that is not a "little nervous" or is not insecure in their concept, execution or path  -- is simply deluding themselves, and others, and they should not be fully trusted.   

 

 

 

We are ALL lost in the cornfield. 

 

 

 

In one way or another. 

 

 

 

The real question for many of us, is -- once you get out of the journey......do you want get yourself back in to the cornfield, to be lost yet again? 

 

 

If you leave the, insecurity of the cornfield too early, do you somehow, someway, or in some weird way --  yearn to feel that "nervous, anxiety ridden, insecure, paranoia" emotion, again? 

 

We all face it.  

 

 

Children who walk out of the door to go to college.   Never to return the same way they left.   

 

 

Leaving a job. 

 

 

Leaving a spouse. 

 

 

Leaving something, anything we cherished. 

 

 

Moving on, personally -- or professionally. 

 

 

It's all a cornfield.   

 

 

We are all in it.  

 

 

Till we are not. 

 

 

And, then once we leave it -- the safety and security we sought, may not exist. 

 

 

In MY PERSONAL CORNFIELD the stalks around me are all are high.   Towering far above my head....

 

 

And, it has become the weird place in my life....

 

 

I am most comfortable. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day After......

 

On Monday November 6th 2012, a day before the election, I posted this on my Facebook Status:  

 

my non-political rant, about politics -- "a day before the election." 
well, the vote is tomorrow. regardless of the candidate you support, or the issues that are near and dear to you -- it is entirely possible/probable, that a mere 36 hours from now, close to half of our countries population will be depressed. 36 hours from now, one half of our citizens will be ecstatic -- and the other group decimated with despair. if you win, dont be a gloating obnoxious ass. if you lose, dont be suicidal. we will get through it, and we will survive, together. keep in mind whats important.......and, what true "survival, and living" actually means......

 

I am in the disappointed group. 

 

I supported - and worked (with) for the Republican candidate, Governor Mitt Romney. 

 

If I've learned anything from this campaign -- it's that he would have made a wonderful President. 

 

He is a gentleman, and a man of high character, who displays integrity, passion - and most of all "caring" about this great country of ours -- the United States of America. 

 

 

Mitt Romney's team was awesome, and a pleasure to deal with.   

 

 

At Lotame, we acted as the DMP (Data Management Platform) for the campaign.  We managed the steady flow of information, collected and segmented it into buckets --and used it to, "audience target" that was used to communicate with donors, potential voters, and likely voters.   We aggregated the immense amount of information that was coming into the campaign from a variety of sources of media, (mobile, email, web, video, survey, offline, etc) -- the goal of all of this was to both -- "mobilize" as well as "persuade" voters......

 

The team we worked with at Targeted Victory tasked with this role was simply amazing.   The team at Targeted Victory was the most hard working, diligent, and determined group of people I've ever worked with.   I take my hats off to them, and to all the people who worked tirelessly, but ultimately fell short in their quest to deliver a change.

 

 

As many of you know, I've been extremely lucky in my life.   I've been blessed with good health, a strong family foundation, and extreme luck in business. 

 

All in all -- my life has been blessed, and I hope in some way I can pay back to this great country, all that it has given me. 

 

Today, I salute President Obama and his team.   I say to all the people who worked, and focused -- and delivered on the other side.....congratulations. 

 

Tomorrow, I renew my focus to make our country a better place to live in, for many years to come. 

 

 

Andy Monfried 

November 7, 2012 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dice

 

 

 

“I’m moving.”

 

 

 

The words stung me like a knife to the heart.

 

 

I was lighting my Bunsen burner in Science class.   She was my Lab partner.

 

 

Debbie was 13 years old, and when the teacher matched us together, I won the equivalent of the 7th Grade lottery – I got the nicest, cutest girl to be my partner for Science Projects.

 

 

Debbie was cute.   She had long brown hair, slender, with an amazingly positive personality.   I had a crush on her ever since I arrived at Churchill Junior High School.

 

 

Churchill is a school that has grades 7-9, and it’s student body comes from 6 elementary schools around the town.    7^th grade exposes kids in rural East Brunswick, NJ, to a variety of different and unique people -- that elementary school does not.

 

 

Debbie was one of those people.

 

 

When the Science Teacher, said the words, “Andy and Debbie will be lab partners for the year” – I thought I was the luckiest guy on earth.

 

 

We immediately hit it off.     I was trying to be cool by ignoring her, and not speaking much – but she quickly cut through all the “boyhood BS” – that afflicts most 7^th grade boys.    It certainly had me in its grips.

 

 

We had a large Science Project of some sort, and she said to me – “Come over after school, and we can work on it it at my apartment.”

 

 

Debbie lived behind our school in a cluster of apartment buildings.

 

 

 

We left school and cut through the fence behind Churchill, and went into her apartment.

 

 

 

The apartment was horrible.   She lived in conditions that were the opposite of her beauty.   The kitchen was gross, the furniture worn and old – and the place smelled of an odor that was a combination of cigarettes, and something else…….

 

 

(It was many years later living at a fraternity house that I learned about the smell of alcohol left out and dropped on the floor, it was then that the memory of Debbie, and the smell of that apartment came flooding back)

 

 

 

I did not know what to say.

 

 

She addressed it. 

 

 

“My Dad and Mom are having a tough time, and going through a separation, my brother and I really don’t want them to break up – but, my Dad gets really angry at my Mom – and my Mom finally said enough is enough.”

 

 

 

Her Mom moved out.   She (her Mom) left her brother Michael (2 years older than us, and in the 9^th grade) – alone, living with the Dad.

 

 

 

Debbie’s father worked at the Hostess Factory.  The factory was located about a ½ mile from the school.    He worked many double shifts, and often he rode a Harley Davidson around.    The local kids knew the factory he worked in,  from the amazing smell that emananted, and poured out into the air  from it’s large ovens --  that made the air smell so sweet, for many miles around…….we knew Debbie's father because of his loud motorcycle, and his shiny leather jackets...

 

 

 

“My Dad was in a war called Vietnam, and he came back angry and confused, “ she blurted out as we started our homework.  

 

 

 

 

Debbie and her Mom and brother were living with a veteran dealing with what is commonly known today as PTSD.   (post traumatic stress) – but, back in 1980 – I did not know about it as a 12 year old – and I’m not sure it was even diagnosed yet.

 

 

 

We spoke at length about what she was dealing with.   

 

 

 

I went home, and realized how lucky I was.

 

 

 

A few months went by, and Debbie and I became more friendly.    She took an interest in the Phillies (because I was a Phillies fan) and,  in 1980 our friendship and partnership was both innocent, and caring, in a 7th grade kind of way.

 

 

 

I felt bad for what she was going through.   I never knew how to ask her about it.

 

 

 

“I’m moving.”   The words hit me, and I was floored.  

 

 

 

I was lighting the Bunsen burner,  and I was wearing those stupid plastic goggles that were way too tight on me – and I snapped them off.

 

 

 

“What, where are you moving, and why?” I pleaded back to her….

 

 

 

She told me her Mother came back.     But, her father would not give her up…..

 

 

 

And, then she told me something that has remained with like a tattoo on my soul…

 

 

 

She started to tear up, as the following came flowing out of her mouth, and into my heart…….

 

 

 

“My Dad wants to get back together with my Mom, but she wont do it.   So, he said he wont give up both kids to her, she can pick one of us to leave with her  – or they would ROLL ONE DICE to see which kid would go live with which parent."   

 

 

She continued.....

 

 

My Mom rolled the dice, and if it came up EVEN, I go with live my Dad, if it came up ODDS I live with my Mom." 

 

 

 

My jaw dropped, and my eyes welled up.

 

 

 

“It came out 6, and I’m going to be living with Dad, my Mom and Michael are moving to NYC – I’m staying with my Dad – but, we are moving to South River.”

 

 

 

South River was only one town away  -- but, it was as far away as Texas to a 7^th grader.

 

 

 

 

She cried, as she told me the story – and, how her Mom begged and pleaded with the Father  -- but, he was violent and angry, and would not let her have both kids.  Debbie's father was getting her, and the Mom was getting Michael. (Debbie's brother)

 

 

 

I finished the year in another Lab Group, and Debbie left.   

 

 **************************

 

 

The Brunswick Square Mall is located on Rt.18 on East Brunswick.    Back in the early 80’s many parents would drop their kids off at mall,  and return in 3 hours to get them.

 

 

We would play video games, or just walk around. 

 

 

It was a year after Debbie left Churchill, and moved to South River.   

 

 

When I saw her in the mall she was wearing all black, with feathered earings– and, a ton of black make-up on her eyes.......

 

 

It wasn’t the same girl who was my lab partner.   She had changed.

 

 

 

I was standing outside of Orange Julius, sipping my drink – and she clearly saw me, we locked eyes, and she looked away.   She was with a group of boys much older, and much “rougher looking” than anyone I hung around with.

 

 

 

I stared at her, and she plainly ignored me.  

 

 *************************************************

 

 

After I graduated from college, I moved to La Jolla, California.    In 1992 my college roommate (Jeff) was getting married (Ellen) and I flew back to NJ from San Diego for the wedding.

 

 

 

It was 10 years since I had seen Debbie.    I rarely thought about her, as our lives did not cross paths.... 

 

 

 

 

 

I came  (to NJ) with my girlfriend at the time, who was from Southern California.    She was dating a guy “from Jersey” (me) --- and, she heard me rave about the pizza in NJ, as well as this place called, White Castle.  

 

 

 

We landed at Newark Airport, and proceeded to go into Elizabeth NJ – the closest White Castle that I knew of, and a location I was familiar with.

 

 

 

We walked in, and I ordered.

 

 

 

Confidently, I said, “10 burgers, and 2 large fries.”

 

 

 

I went to pay the cashier.   

 

 

 

It was Debbie.

 

 

 

She was working the cash register.

 

 

My heart dropped.

 

 

She looked embarrassed and dejected as she saw me. 

 

 

 

I did not know what to say.

 

 

She blurted out,  “Hey Lab partner, how ya doing?” 

 

 

My girlfriend at the time was incredulous that I knew this woman working the register at a fast food place --- I did not know what to say. 

 

 

Debbie looked worn. 

 

 

She came to sit with us. 

 

 

She told me she no longer speaks to her Mother, or brother.   Her brother went to college, became a banker in NYC, and her Mom was a teacher.   She clearly had resentment to her Mother for, giving her up.....

 

 

 

 

Her Father died of AIDS, and Debbie took care of him in his final months of his life. 

 

 

 

She did all this with 2 kids of her own, and going through a divorce herself. 

 

 

 

Debbie was only 23 years old, with 2 kids, and an ex -- but, she looked like she had lived the life of a 50 year old.   

 

 

 

She was still upbeat, but her stories and journey, made me appreciate the "simpleness" and luck of my life at that point.....

 

 

The dice that fateful day in 1980 made all the difference in her journey.   The simple roll of the dice, was the most important determining factor in the fate of her existence.....

 

 

 

One simple roll.   One lousy 6 on dice, changed her destiny. 

 

Do you know what changed and altered your destiny?   

 

 

Sometimes we ignore it, and we never acknowledge -- or even realize the proverbial "dice" in each of our lives. 

 

 

Embrace it, and share it with those you are closest with. 

 

 

I did in my life. 

 

 

Destiny is a funny thing........