Geoffrey Moore of “Crossing the Chasm” fame is often misunderstood on the topic of Early Adopters and Early Majority.

Moore actually has three kinds of early customers: Innovators, Early Adopters, and Early Majority.

Most of us confuse Early Adopters with Innovators.  When we meet a visionary customer, we wrongly assume they’re an Early Adopter.

What’s the difference?  Innovators love technology and innovation for its own sake.  They want one of everything to play around with.  Innovators are essentially indifferent to the business value of an innovation.

Early Adopters, on the other hand, care about the business value of innovation.  They are willing to take a risk on an innovative technology approach, but they are doing so as a calculated risk in order to gain a business advantage.  Early Adopters see the business advantage of an innovation and accept the risk of using it in order to reap the business reward.

And, finally, Early Majority customers want to “let Joe drain out the risk.”  They don’t want to take chances with new technology until they believe everyone else is doing it and they are in danger of being left behind if they don’t.  Early Majority customers wish that innovation risk would go away.

Within the organization, then, geeks are likely to comprise mostly Innovators and Early Adopters.  And suits are likely to comprise mostly Early Adopters and Early Majority (as well as Late Majority and Laggards, but those are topics for another day.)

The business value of an innovation and the unvarnished risk associated with it are the two things Early Adopters want to be crystal clear about.

The business value of an innovation and the strong hint that everyone else is already doing it are the two things Early Majority want to be crystal clear about.

It’s possible to speak to both of them in the same pitch, since Early Adopters don’t care what everyone else is doing (much) and Early Majority don’t listen to blah-blah about risk as long as they see others taking the risk.

The inner workings of the tension between Marketing and Engineering are similar to the tension between management and tech staff discussed in my last post.  Similar, but different.

Safe to say that the two don’t understand one another, but the twin elements of unpredictability and needing one another are absent.  And there is a new element: Marketing and Engineering each think what the other does is magic.

Let’s take these one at a time:

• Unpredictability.  Marketing and Engineering don’t trust one another, but that’s not the same as finding the other unpredictable.  “Those weasels from Marketing, they always do this.”  “You know Engineering will throw up their hands.”  We know what the Other is going to do, we just don’t like it.
• Needing One Another.  Management wishes we believed we need one another, but in fact neither of us is giving the other a paycheck or the wherewithal for a paycheck, except in a very abstract and attenuated sense that makes no impact on our feelings for one another.  Part of the very tension between the two stems from the fact that there is no urgency to try to work with the other side.  We can fold our arms – and do – and wait for steam to come out of their ears.
• Magic.  Probably the most interesting of these points.  Marketing has no idea of how software or hardware or even physics works.  To them, everything Engineering does is essentially magic (per Arthur Clarke’s Law #3: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”  And, on the other side, Engineering has no idea of how to persuade markets to value or like things; the idea of persuasion in Engineering is that you present your listeners with a fact, and, if they are agree, they are persuaded.  The methods that Marketing uses to involve markets emotionally are magic to Engineering.

One consequence of the “magic” problem is that neither side knows how to assess a promise or a caution from the other side: “We don’t think we can make that schedule” (Why not?  Why not just add more magic?), or “We can’t sell that to soccer moms” (Why not?  Just use your Jedi Mind Tricks on them?).

Understanding the source of the tension between the two groups should help us to talk to one another and, hopefully, break through.

A first way to approach the divide between geeks and suits is to understand the nature and dynamic of the tension between management and tech staff.

For my money, the heart of it is we need one another but don’t like one another.

From the geek point of view, management is unpredictable.  When you say something to a suit, you have no idea what you’re going to get back: it could be a pat on the cheek; it could be a knife in the back; it could be flattering praise; it could be a curse and a blow; ultimately, it could be a pink slip.

What’s to like for a geek about a system whose output isn’t predictable – or at least understandable – as a function of your input?

But it’s a system that we need.  The pink slip says it all: management controls access to food, clothing, shelter, self-actualization, and self-esteem.  So your whole Hierarchy of Needs is in the hands of a lunatic.  That’s the geek point of view.

Strangely, management thinks of geeks almost exactly the same way.  When you speak to them, you have no idea what you’re going to get back: a smile; a snarl; a great demo; terrible news about a slipped schedule or a new tech obstacle.

What’s to like for a suit about a system whose outputs aren’t predictable from your inputs?

And, it’s a system that we need.  Without the geeks, the Morlocks of modern industry, management can’t get food, clothing, shelter, self-actualization, or self-esteem.

Both sides find the other side unpredictable and incomprehensible.  That’s a recipe for some touch Solution Pitching.

The core shortcoming in a “geek” presentation attempting to make a business case is surely touting features rather than benefits.

A feature is an attribute of the solution under discussion.  It’s one of the things a solution can do:

• “The new JetEdge can achieve speeds of up to Mach 20”
• “The T_g of the material is 1200 degrees C.” (thanks to Jack Lesko for that one!)
• “We have achieved latencies of down to 2 ns”

The problem with features, of course, is they’re inside out.

People who are deciding on the merits of a solution don’t care what it will do (even if they say they do); they care about what it will do for them.

What a solution will do for a potential solute (is that the right word lol?) is a benefit, and benefits are what a presentation should pitch.

• “The JetEdge can get you to London before you left”
• “The new material can line exhaust pipes without turning plastic”
• “Web apps can be written on the new platform without messy client-side code”

It is so common for geeks to conflate features and benefits that it’s worth wondering why.  I have two theories, not necessarily exclusive:

• Geeks hate to lie, generally speaking, and a feature sounds like a fact whereas a benefit sounds like a (potentially false or lying) opinion.
• Geeks hate to urge someone else to do something; we believe that everyone should make up their own minds about things.  Touting benefits sounds like urging.

Needless to say, geeks have to get over it!  Without urging, those suits are never going to fund your business case.  In fact, the gist of a presentation – bearing in mind all of the caveats from previous posts – is respectfully urging the listeners to take a certain course of action.

The trick is being respectful.

Time to switch gears.

I know the most about entrepreneurs pitching business ideas to investors, because that’s what I’ve been doing for the past 10 years.

But prior to that I was a tech guy, and got a lot of experience (among other things) trying to get the managements of my companies to take on a new tech project, and watching my tech brothers and sisters do the same thing.

I want to turn to this use case next, and spend a few posts on special Solution Pitching angles to Geeks and Suits.

Of course, the fundamentals remain the same:

1. Know what your audience is thinking
2. Benefits Not Features
3. Be Respectful

Onward and upward!

I’m a little puzzled how irritated presenters become when they are peppered with questions by an investor audience.

The questions can, of course, be hostile, and I’ve fielded my share of those from the other side of the table.  No question, some entitled jerk sarcastically asking rhetorical questions about your venture is one of life’s more exquisite tortures.

But the irritation is common even when the questions are neutral, or even positive.  It’s not uncommon, at the end of a meeting where the investors pretty much got the idea of the venture and approved of it, for the entrepreneur to say something like, “well and we only got through 4 slides.”

Is the point to get through all the slides?

I thought the point was to get the point across, and the slides are a means to an end.

If so, then a bevy of questions from the audience just means that your slides aren’t doing a very good job of getting the point across.

I hate to be a pest, but a good clean introductory slide would go a long way toward bringing the audience on board (and hence, if my theory is correct, should damp down the # of questions).

And anything else that shows you understand the audience, know what they want to hear, and give it to them, will reduce the volume of questions.

To put it another way, the questions can tell you what your audience isn’t hearing:

• Tell me about the fundamentals: I’m not hearing how this is a business rather than a neat idea.
• Will it scale: How do you see exiting from this business, and how will I make money at it (See my “Fear and Greed” posting)
• Isn’t <x> doing this already: I just heard about them and they are a) failing miserably or b) tearing up the turf.  What is your Hammacher Schlemer promise?

It’s easy to get caught up in the heat of a question session and feel like you are being interrogated.  And you are, in a way.

But in another way, questions are an attempt to get you to fill in context that’s missing from you pitch.  An attempt you should respect.