The value of the social web is clear, even if we’re still trying to figure out a demonstrable ROI from it. Gary Vaynerchuck probably put it best. When asked what the ROI of social media is, he said “What’s the ROI of your mother?”

(Something we’re all thinking about this Mother’s Day. Although I’d warn against writing “You’ve delivered a very high ROI to me, Mom” in her card this Sunday.)

When it comes to leveraging the power of the social web to lead those you need engaged with your efforts, it’s about time. Thing is, time is too precious to waste learning fly-by-night, passing-fad tactics or tools. Stick with strategy and governing principles, I say, and let the tactics flow from there.

There may not be a decidedly proven way to measure the ROI of tactics on the social web. But there certainly is a way to gauge its results. We have been for a long time, actually. To illustrate his broader themes about what motivates people, Dan Pink wrote about a 1998 study in his book Drive. I think it’s interesting to cast the study in terms of the social web’s value.

Anyone (Mom or Dad) who has a kid in daycare knows the dynamic: After a day at work – confronting and selling and vying – you battle your damnedest to make your daycare’s pick-up deadline. You fight the commute like an MMA fighter. You arrive there with a gaggle of mini vans and SUVs, jockeying for position, jackal-like.

One extra question from the boss or one extra response to that 4:30 email and you’re late. Happens a lot, to you and plenty of the other working parents with kids in the center.

You’re tested, tired, and the daycare workers are too. You want your kid, and they want to be rid of your kid. Nothing personal, but they need to clock out just like you did and the daycare’s budget takes a hit the longer the kids stay – someone has to look after them.

Say you’re in charge of the daycare center. How do you reduce the number of late pick-ups?

You’re an PFT Animal, so there’s little doubt that you’d come up with some pretty creative solutions. But the most obvious one is to impose a fine. You’re late, you pay.

Deterrence hypothesis. (Or in Pink’s parlance, the “stick” part of  the “carrot and stick” metaphor.) We’re almost hard wired to jump to it as a solution.

Does it work? Hard to know, really. It’s a hypothesis used and tested across many disciplines. Legal, criminal, management, psychology.

The study Pink uses took a look at late pick-ups at private Israeli daycare centers to test deterrence (here’s the study’s PDF draft). Working with 11 centers, they didn’t do anything with four of them (Control Group) and imposed fines for late pick-ups at the other seven (Fine Group).

The result? Late pick-ups increased – sharply and significantly – within the Fine Group. They remained the same in the Control Group.

Sharp and significant increase. Didn’t decrease, didn’t even remain the same. Increased. And when researchers removed the fines in the Fine Group, late pick-ups plateaued at their new levels. In a way, the fine system set a new standard of behavior.

The study doesn’t go so far as to increase the fine in order to find the threshold. Certainly there would be a tolerance to what parents would be willing to pay for a late pick-up – or the parents would just take their business elsewhere. Either way, I suppose, the late pick-up problem is solved.

What the study was interested in understanding (based on my reading – there are certainly more conclusions to make as Pink shows) is the value of social contracts. By removing the connection parents had with the people behind the center, and creating more of a pure transactional relationship, they’ve turned late pick-ups into acceptable behavior. They removed the social contract.

I give a presentation called Leading in a Social World. In it I suggest that in order to grasp the significance of the social web, a leader (by leader I mean all of us – anyone involved in trying to inspire one or more people to do something) must value it first. What’s the asset or capital the social web brings to bear for me or my company? Then a leader must understand what makes it tick. What’s the nature of the system? Then a leader must evaluate what kind of leadership skills are required to be successful when leading people in it. How will I engage those I require to move my efforts forward?

Then, and only then, does it make sense to think about the tools and tactics you’ll use to inspire people to engage with your brand, movement, or cause. Because tactics and tools change. Especially in and around the social web. What should matter to you and I is finding those enduring templates that travel with us through the changing realities of our careers, our company’s strategic landscape, and the people who flow in and out of our leadership contexts.

In my view, the deeper meaning that underpins all the treatises from social media “experts” is really a reframing of what leadership books and thought experts have studied for years. Permission, Thank You, Naked, Trust, fillintheblank-a-nomics…these are really just new concepts for building social capital. And social capital has long been an asset that any leader in any time has always had to concern themselves with.

As an asset, social capital results in many tangible benefits. The value of a social contract, as the Israeli daycare centers learned, is one of them. So is the idea of a social license. Most businesses need various licenses to operate: liquor, tax, BMI/ASCAP, water rights, mining. But they need social licenses too. Neighborhood buy-in for the nightclub. Community approval to divert water.

Newmont mining knows this to be true. Their ability to operate in a stable environment and open new mines with greater efficiency depends on their deliberately-planned social license programs. (You can read more about social licenses in the natural resources industry here.) The result? Consistent growth in earnings, and the first gold mining company to be named to the Dow Jones Sustainability index.

As for the rest of us, I use everybody’s-favorite-animal Erik Proulx and a remarkable redhead by the name of Erika Napoletano in my presentation as tangible, everyperson examples of leaders who understand how to build social capital, and the value it can bring.

When you stop to think about it, do you really think Lemonade was made because of a good Twitter plan? Effective blog content that added value to readers? Or was it more because Erik, recognizing he didn’t have the monetary capital to make a movie, had the leadership know-how to build and cash in on social capital?

When Erika Napolatano transcended her SEO writing career and landed a gig with Entrepreneur magazine – on her terms, with her bitch-slap style – did she do it with Facebook? Because she always took the time to comment on all her blog comments? Or because she views the world through a leadership lens that tells her she may not have the reputation capital as a magazine writer, but sure as hell can build and leverage social capital for the same result.

I’ve kibitzed about this before, but I’ve learned more about successful branding – in a traditional sense as well as in our new connected, social world – from leadership stuff than I ever have from marketing stuff. There’s some great thinking out there about the leadership characteristics shared by people who know how to build and leverage social capital. (I’ve got a decent reading list for you if you want to ping me.) Those are the things I’m interested in developing. Not how to send a good Tweet.

As Clay Shirky put it, it isn’t the technical capital that matters. It’s the social capital.

Something I bet Mom knew all along.

But I still believe in the ideals of Please Feed the Animals. I still think that people like me have something to pass along. Much in the spirit of the book Wisdom, written by people who have been there and done that, PFTA can be a place to get some perspective from a bunch of wise people who have gone through a layoff, reinvention, or enlightenment, and can pass along their life and career lessons to you.

From here on out, PFTA will be a blog written by several semi-regular collaborators. These are all folks who have contributed guest posts in the past, and who required little or no editing on my part. They are all accomplished in their fields, and have each inspired me personally in one way or another over the past two years.

The first of these contributor posts will come from Aaron Templer, who wrote this amazing post last May. Aaron and I have become friends and collaborators over the past year and a half, and I’m thrilled to have him on the roster.

Stay tuned for his post, as well as a list of the other contributors as they are confirmed.

Peace,
Erik

I included both below. Enjoy.

The Road Ahead or The Road Behind
by George Joseph Moriarty

Sometimes I think the Fates must
Grin as we denounce and insist
The only reason we can’t win
Is the Fates themselves that miss

Yet there lives on an ancient claim
We win or lose within ourselves
The shining trophies on our shelves
Can never win tomorrow’s game
You and I know deeper down
There’s always a chance to win the crown

But when we fail to give our best
We simply haven’t met the test
Of giving all, and saving none
Until the game is really won

Of showing what is meant by grit
Of fighting on when others quit
Of playing through, not letting up
It’s bearing down that wins the cup
Of taking it and taking more
Until we gain the winning score

Of dreaming there’s a goal ahead
Of hoping when our dreams are dead
Of praying when our hopes have fled
Yet losing, not afraid to fall
If bravely, we have given all

For who can ask more of a man
Than giving all within his span
Giving all, it seems to me
Is not so far from victory

And so the Fates are seldom wrong
No matter how they twist and wind
It is you and I who make our fates
We open up or close the gates
On the road ahead or the road behind.

There’s a fantastic community of people out there who get off on helping others overcome their bullshit excuses for complacency. One of the best is Hugh MacLeod, the always genius and often surly cartoonist, author, and blogger behind GapingVoid.

Like me, Hugh once worked in advertising. Unlike me, he’s figured out how to fully commit to his art, no longer straddling between the two worlds.

I woke up yesterday to this message on Twitter. Turns out, Hugh created the above Cube Grenade in my honor. (For the definition of a “Cube Grenade,” click here.) He often does these for private commission, so to say I’m flattered is an understatement.

But the truth is, he’s always giving away his art. He’s one of the few entrepreneurs who fully embrace that you get by giving. And not just philosophically, but in real, financial terms. By giving freely of his work, he’s established his brand. People know him now. And he gets hired to do more of it.

I have much to learn from him.

Sure, it’s easier at cocktail parties. “What do you do for a living?” needs some kind of reply. But once we define ourselves by our career titles, it places a whole set of generalizations on us. Most of them are half truths. And all of them are limiting. 

This was the presentation I gave at the PSFK Conference last month. I talk briefly about how I got into advertising and spent 15 years falsely defining myself as an adguy. Then I introduce a bunch of brave souls who looked inward to make a living being who they are.

Oh man. I’ve been battling a whopper of a digital brief lately. The assignment is nothing special, but it’s one of those “make some banners now and make the idea big enough so we can launch a new campaign from it.” So, you know, no pressure. Yet it’s been a tough nut to crack. And every day, I’m getting my ass kicked by this piece of paper. My team and I think and scribble and think and play online and think some more. Every night around 9ish, our ideas look pretty good. And around 9ish the next morning, they suck. So we start over. I look at the brief for the millionth time. “This brief’s a piece of shit,” one of us says as it’s tossed across the room. I walk around the office for signs of inspiration and leftover meeting food (there isn’t any). I return to my desk. I look at the brief again. Except it doesn’t look like a brief any more. It’s a time bomb. There are wires. So many wires. What do I do? This thing’s gonna blow. I’m frustrated. Stuck. I start the litany of “if onlys” such as “if only we had a bigger budget…if only we had some sound…if only we had a celebrity voice over…” If only I wasn’t such being a whiner. Briefs like this aren’t solved by whiners. They’re solved by MacGyvers. Someone who can look danger in the eye and beat it with nothing but a paper clip, sandpaper and lemon juice. Sometimes, that MacGyver fella has got to be you. Grab your needlenose pliers and save the day.

Not all assignments go smoothly. Some make no sense whatsoever. Frequently, the “figuring it out” part is saved for the creatives. Lucky you. No one knows how it’ll turn out. And yet, through the fate of the cosmos, this enigma of a riddle ended up on your desk. Whining, venting and complaining don’t move the deadline. Who said what we do is easy? Who said it was fair? Who said every assignment would be awesome? We are taxed to find the answer. Somehow. If we value our jobs. We burn the midnight oil. We burn the midday oil. We load up on caffeine and sugar. We fart around on YouTube looking for inspiration. We do what we do till the ideas flow. Then we have the rest of our careers to wonder why we didn’t do it differently.

MacGyver wasn’t a whiner. He got out of every mess looking like a champ. He would have made a good ad guy. Then again, he never had to deal with client bureaucracy, Facebook and impractical banner sizes. Still, I bet he’d make it to the closing credits, looking awesome, as his mullet victoriously flaps in the wind after saving the day, yet again, just in time for the local news.

Brad Mislow drank waaaay too much coffee today.

I became a huge fan of Brandon George today. Brandon is a student at my alma mater, the Creative Circus. He is also a rabid Cleveland Cavaliers fan.

As every Clevelander knows, LeBron James IS the Cavs. But in two and a half months, they may lose him to free agency.  So Brandon started a campaign to keep ‘Bron in Cleveland. It’s called In LeBron We Trust, and it consists of Brandon doing one news-worthy stunt a week for 23 weeks or until the Cavs re-sign him.

Some of my favorites include:

• Dribble a basketball for 23 hours straight
• Get hypnotized into believing he’s LeBron
• Sit inside a bin of Shaq’s used uniforms

Brandon, thank you for being a living, breathing example of what I’ve been preaching for the last six months. And that is:

Don’t be the person out there looking for a job. Be the person doing something interesting.

I hear you’ve got another year at the Creative Circus. I’d be shocked if you weren’t employed well before your graduation date.

Seth Godin and Chris Brogan are two of my favorites. Seth has been around for decades. He writes best-selling business books. He lectures. And everything that comes out of his mouth could be its own TED conference.

Chris’s expertise is rooted in new technologies. To everyone who reads him, it would appear the man never sleeps. He’s always writing, traveling, speaking, or exploring new mediums to spread the word. There are 25 hours in his day, 8 days in his week. The man is insane – in the most amazing way.

They both have recent posts that inspired me. Actually, they always write posts that inspire me. But these two in particular speak to the different and sometimes opposing forces at work within me.

Seth’s Winning On The Uphill is the perfect Animal mentality. In a nutshell, he says that it takes a lot of discipline to challenge yourself when life is all peaches and cream. The law of inertia dictates that you will stay in your comfort zone. But when you’re challenged by a job loss or career change, it can feel like you’re running uphill, against the wind, with lead weights strapped to your ankles. These are the moments, he says, to embrace. It’s when we learn the lessons for whatever’s next.

Contrast that with While The Iron Is Hot, Chris Brogan’s recent post about gettin’ while the gettin’s good. To Chris, it’s all about channeling your energy. It’s not a slow burn for him. He’s stoking the fire. Adding fuel and wood and more fuel and more wood.  As he says:

The choice I’ve made is to strike while the iron is hot. I’m working now because we’re seeing results. I’m working now because I’m at the top of my game…I’m working now so that I can choose my own jobs in years to come.

Please Feed The Animals and Lemonade are experiencing both of these phenomenons right now. We’re running uphill, trying to find a way to build a business while staying true to our mission of getting unemployed people energized about their careers again — all without charging them a fee. Simultaneously, we’re riding the wave of good will and energy, given’ her all she’s got, knocking on all the doors of opportunity that are being created by Lemonade.

On the one hand, it’s the most challenging period of a relatively young venture. On the other hand, opportunities abound, and the momentum must be pushed.

Where are you in this world of opposites? Is there a seemingly impossible challenge in front of you that begs to be overcome? Or do you have a head of steam that you can push even further?

Or is it both?

My position on crowdsourcing is so on-the-fence that a stiff breeze in one direction or the other would send me toppling to either side.

On the one hand, it’s a brilliant way to engage fans/consumers/friends with your brand. Instead of pushing an internally generated idea, you invite participation in shaping its course. There are great examples this kind of thing, like this poster for Adidas and this site from HP. In fact, much of PFTA has been crowdsourced. The new logo, the guest posts, even Lemonade — these things would be impossible without the crowd (you) engaging with the brand (PFTA). In these instances, crowdsourcing = co-creation. Everyone is on board for the shot to be a part of something bigger.

So from that perspective, I should have no issues whatsoever.

On the other hand, I’m hanging on to my old (guard?) belief that a day’s work deserves a day’s wages. For every co-created group project, there are even more crowdsourcing contests, like Crispin’s much-criticized design competition for Brammo, and entire sites dedicated to getting creatives to compete for projects like Crowdspring and Zooppa. The argument against them is that if you really value creativity, writers and artists and designers (and any other skill there’s a demand for) won’t give away their talents for nothing.

Not to mention, this approach to crowdsourcing tends to generate what most advertising and design professionals consider terrible ideas.

I bring this debate to the table because over the past couple of months, I’ve received several requests from companies wanting to leverage PFTA’s talent pool. The reason I haven’t shared these requests with you is because they came with no promise of payment. The people who approached me said, “let’s use your talent and when we win the assignment we’ll reimburse them for their time.”

I don’t know about you, but I can’t just spend 15 minutes writing headlines and expect something great. Depending on the project, it could take days or weeks to do something that meets my own standards. So the opportunity cost of committing to a project without any reasonable assurance of reimbursement is just too high for me.

I haven’t broached crowdsourcing with you until now because I was acting like a den mother, trying to shield you from unfair labor practices. But I’m realizing now that it could just be me. I may have mistakenly projected my own reservations onto you. And since we’re all part of this community, I wanted to open(source) this for discussion.

So here’s my question: Would you be open to working on crowsourced projects? Is there a middle-ground you’d consider…say, half your rate until your idea is bought, then more after? What if you could bid on work before committing to doing it? Or say the client didn’t own the rights to your work unless they bought it…would the prospect of maintaining your own intellectual property be of value to you?

Or is there some crowdsourcing model (current or in your own brain) that would make participation more attractive to you?

I see how valuable crowdsourcing can be for creative expression, and especially for clients. But I also see how it can be used to demean what we have all chosen to do for a living. As James McMurtry wrote in the great song “Where’s Johnny”:

He saw both sides of everything and found he could not move.

I suspect this won’t be the last time I approach this topic with y’all. So with this post, I’m starting a crowdsourcing category.

Discuss.

“Don’t be the person looking for a job. Be the person doing something interesting.”

That was a quote from our interview with Lisa Hickey, who has not-so-quietly reinvented herself from a traditional advertising creative director into the self-made queen of social media strategy.

Point is, you can smell a job seeker from a mile away. Job seekers rattle their cup, begging for interviews. And “hire me please” is no way to get hired.

The second you look for a job, you instantly place yourself in a position of need. But as soon you replace resume-sending with doing something people are genuinely interested in, you grab the power back.

Like Josh Kobrin, who spent a fruitless year looking for work, and didn’t get hired until he built a tree house worth talking about.

Or Lawson Clarke, who lost his job, became the Male Copywriter, and hasn’t stopped freelancing since.

Or Geoff Vreeken, who is turning his portfolio site into a fund raising opportunity for Vancouver’s homeless population.

Or Chris Kahle, who Tweeted his way into Crispin.

If you take nothing else away from Please Feed The Animals, let it be this: Do something worth talking about, and jobs will come to you.