Patrick Berry, The Levison Group
A few days ago, I got a call from a long-time friend and occasional client – I’ll call him “Joe”. I use the term “client” loosely here. Joe regularly asks for my advice on various matters – it could be a nasty dispute with his business partners (Joe can be quite the acrimonious fellow) or some new venture he decided to undertake. He then proceeds, without fail, to entirely disregard my advice. To date, he’s never paid for said advice. I’m convinced he views my services similar to electricity or some other utility: he’s only willing to pay for what he ends up actually using. Given his penchant for nonpayment, I suppose my use of the term “friend” should be similarly qualified.
Most lawyers have at least one client, or friend, like Joe. Joe is an impatient and ambitious character. He’s always on the move, and appears to subsist solely on caffeinated beverages. He’s constantly calling me to explain some new far-fetched business idea, each of which he assures me is an opportunity to exploit a previously “untapped” market. Without fail, he’ll end our conversation by asking me to invest. He promises to cut me a “friends and family” rate. Of course, I’ve never taken Joe up on any these offers, but he’s not one to leave a potential buck on the table, so no doubt he’ll keep asking.
As a result, when I saw my phone light up with an incoming call from Joe, I took a breath and mentally prepared myself for an hour-long, unbillable conversation. It happened to be a slow Friday afternoon, so I didn’t mind the interruption too much. I answered, and he barked into the phone: “Hey! I’m outside your law office. I’ve got a great new idea that I need your advice on. Let’s get lunch!” I sighed, hung up, and grabbed my jacket for this unplanned late lunch.
We got to the pub of his choice and Joe found a quiet corner. He plopped a pile of papers on the table and started explaining his new idea. In short, he’d come up with an iPhone app for beer enthusiasts. He’d already gotten a few of his bar owning buddies to sign on. He’d raised some capital, though admitted he was still a little short on funds. He asked me to take a look at his business plan over the weekend and offer him an honest appraisal of his budding business. I told him I’d review everything and get back to him the following week.
The next day, I dug into Joe’s documents. I wasn’t impressed. He had no real plan, just some rough ideas and half-baked proposals. He hadn’t assessed the market or his competitors. A quick Google search revealed that there were already a bunch of apps similar to Joe’s. He had no real plan to acquire customers or sign up merchants. The business plan didn’t include any strategy for earning revenue (a pretty crucial component of a successful business). Plus, given the nature of the business, I thought there could be some legitimate risk of liability. It was, to put it mildly, a half-brewed idea.
I called Joe on Monday morning to deliver my glum assessment. He was disappointed, and, as usual, undeterred. He asked me to give him a percentage chance that his new venture would succeed and turn a profit within the next year. I told him I didn’t like his odds. He prodded me for a more concrete prediction. I put his chances at success at a lowly 20 percent. He sighed, but thanked me for giving him my thoughts. As the call ended, he asked if I’d think about making an investment. I laughed and hung up.
The following day, Tuesday, November 8, the world changed. Donald Trump shocked everyone — reportedly, himself and his campaign team included. As it turned out, every major pollster and newspaper, many of whom put Hillary Clinton’s chances of winning at 90 percent or higher, got it wrong. How could all of these so-called experts have been so wrong about the outcome? The result had me truly confounded.
Among the first people I called was Joe. The election had shaken my worldview and had changed the way I thought about certain things, including Joe’s new business. I told him I had reconsidered our previous conversation, and realized I may have been unduly pessimistic for several reasons. First, I cautioned him against putting too much weight in my prediction of his chances of success. If professional electoral pollsters — with all their access to information, inside knowledge and resources — couldn’t get it right, he certainly shouldn’t be deterred by my rough, off-the-cuff prediction. He assured me that he hadn’t been. Second, I suggested that if we could learn one thing from Trump’s victory, it’s that success isn’t always dependent on having a concrete, specific plan. What I perceived as an inconsistent, incoherent jumble of ideas may actually have a shot after all. Finally, and most importantly, I estimated that the demand for his new product — a beer finding app — would be growing exponentially in the coming months. I know I could use a drink.
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© 2016 Under Analysis, LLC. Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of the Levison Group. Contact Under Analysis by e-mail at comments@levisongroup.com.
