Suresh Dinakaran's Blog

 

Before Business Schools, There Were Backstages!

Long before the corporate zeitgeist worshipped “disruption,” well before consultants coined “brand architecture,” before authenticity became an overused buzzword—there were four kids in garages with guitars, audacity, and zero respect for how things were “supposed” to be done. They didn’t have focus groups. They had feedback: the primal roar of crowds or the deafening silence of empty rooms. They didn’t have brand guidelines. They had instinct, integrity, and the intoxicating freedom of not knowing the rules they were breaking.

 

Rock bands built empires on gut feelings that MBAs would later package into frameworks. They created tribal loyalty before “community management” existed. They understood scarcity economics while selling out stadiums. They weaponized mystique when transparency was gospel. They made volatility into virtue, danger into differentiation, and vulnerability into invincibility.

 

A one-legged flutist in a codpiece (Jethro Tull) understood positioning better than most Fortune 500 CMOs. A band that encouraged bootlegging (Grateful Dead) grasped lifetime customer value before CRM software existed. Four guys who refused to put their name on an album cover(Led Zeppelin) knew more about brand equity than agencies billing millions to plaster logos everywhere.

 

This isn’t nostalgia. This is a field guide to the principles that precede the PowerPoints—the raw, unfiltered DNA of brands that don’t just survive trend cycles, but define eras. These bands didn’t build brands. They built belief systems. And belief, as it turns out, is the only moat that compounds.

 

So turn it up to eleven. Class is in session.

 

When Amplifiers Taught Us About Authenticity

 

1.JETHRO TULL: The Art of Theatrical Contrarianism

The Core Story: While prog-rock peers built castles of complexity, Ian Anderson stood on one leg with a flute, dressed as a medieval minstrel, making classical instruments cool in the age of electric rebellion.

UFP (Unique Feelings Proposition): “You can be intellectual without being inaccessible, eccentric without being exclusive.” Jethro Tull made you feel like the smartest person in the room who could still have fun.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: They zigged when everyone zagged—bringing folk instrumentation to hard rock, rejecting the “rock god” archetype for theatrical absurdism, and famously winning the first-ever Heavy Metal Grammy (for Crest of a Knave) despite not being metal at all.

The Outlier Moment: Thick as a Brick (1972)—a single 43-minute song presented as a newspaper. They literally wrapped their product in editorial commentary, creating meta-branding before the internet made everyone a critic.

Inspiring Takeaway: Don’t fight for a seat at the table; bring your own furniture. Jethro Tull proved that category creation beats category domination.

Application Across Industries: Like Tesla ignoring auto industry playbooks or Patagonia telling customers not to buy their products, the lesson is simple: conviction in your weirdness creates magnetic differentiation.

 

2.DEEP PURPLE: The Power of Creative Tension

The Core Story: Built on the volatile chemistry between Ritchie Blackmore‘s neoclassical precision and Ian Gillan’s blues-rock spontaneity, Deep Purple turned internal conflict into sonic gold.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “Excellence emerges from constructive friction.” They made you feel the electricity of barely-controlled chaos, the thrill of virtuosos pushing each other to the edge.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: They embraced instability as a feature, not a bug. Multiple lineup changes (Mark I, II, III, IV) didn’t dilute the brand—each became a distinct “product line” with loyal followers. They productized volatility.

The Outlier Moment: Recording Machine Head at the Montreux Casino when it literally burned down during a Frank Zappa concert, inspiring “Smoke on the Water“—the most recognizable guitar riff ever. They turned disaster into their signature.

Inspiring Takeaway: Your brand doesn’t need perfect harmony; it needs productive tension. The Beatles had Lennon-McCartney creative friction; Apple had Jobs-Ive design tension. Conflict, managed well, forges diamonds.

Application Across Industries: Think Google’s “organized chaos” or Amazon’s “disagree and commit” culture. Deep Purple proved that creative abrasion, when channeled properly, produces heat that forges legendary work. For agencies and startups: diverse perspectives in tension often beat comfortable consensus.

 

3.LED ZEPPELIN: Mystique as Marketing

The Core Story: Four musicians who rarely gave interviews, avoided singles, refused TV appearances, and built the biggest rock empire of the ’70s purely on album sales and live mythology.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “You want us more because you can’t have us.” Led Zeppelin made you feel like an initiate into secret knowledge, not a consumer of mass entertainment.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: Anti-promotion as promotion. No singles released in the UK during their prime. No names on the first album cover. Untitled fourth album with mysterious symbols. They made scarcity a sacrament when everyone else was chasing ubiquity.

The Outlier Moment: Led Zeppelin IV (1971)—no band name, no title, just four cryptic symbols. It sold 37 million copies. They proved you could erase your name and still dominate because the work was the signature.

Inspiring Takeaway: Mystery is a moat. Accessibility is overrated. The hardest brand strategy is saying “no” to exposure—but scarcity creates value.

Application Across Industries: Supreme’s limited drops, Hermès’ Birkin bag waitlists, Clubhouse’s invite-only launch—mystique creates desire. In B2B: thought leaders who don’t speak at every conference gain more gravitas. In luxury: less availability equals more aspiration. Zeppelin taught us that the most powerful brand position is “you can’t always get what you want.”

 

4.THE BEATLES: Perpetual Reinvention as Brand Religion

The Core Story: Four lads from Liverpool who refused to be what they were yesterday. From mop-topped boy band to psychedelic philosophers to stripped-down studio monks—they remade themselves every 18 months while the world watched, copied, and never caught up.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “We give you permission to outgrow your past self.” The Beatles made reinvention feel safe, even sacred. If they could go from “She Loves You” to “A Day in the Life” in four years, you could evolve too.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: Kill your golden goose repeatedly. At peak Beatlemania, they stopped touring (1966). After perfecting pop, they invented psychedelia (Sgt. Pepper’s). Post-masterpiece, they stripped back to roots (Let It Be). They made obsolescence a creative mandate, not a market threat.

The Outlier Moment: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967)—they literally created an alter ego band, complete with fictional personas and concept album narrative. They branded away from themselves to transcend themselves, teaching every artist since that your next act requires killing your last one.

Inspiring Takeaway: The most dangerous brand move is standing still. The Beatles proved that loyalty isn’t built on consistency—it’s built on trusted evolution. Fans don’t want the same thing twice; they want to be surprised by someone they trust.

Application Across Industries: Amazon starting with books, then everything. Apple’s evolution from computers to phones to services. Netflix from DVDs to streaming to production. Madonna’s chameleonic decades. These are Beatles blueprints: dominate, then destroy your own playbook before competitors do. For agencies: redefine your services every 3 years. For personal brands: your bio should make your 5-years-ago self unrecognizable. The Fab Four taught us that brands die from calcification, not transformation.

 

5.PINK FLOYD: Immersive Experience Over Individual Stardom

The Core Story: After Syd Barrett’s departure, Pink Floyd became a collective identity—no frontman, just a sonic architecture that enveloped audiences in audiovisual cathedrals.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “Transcendence through total immersion.” They didn’t give you songs; they gave you journeys into your own consciousness.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: De-emphasize the humans, amplify the experience. While contemporaries sold sex appeal and charisma, Floyd sold inflation pigs, circular screens, and quadraphonic sound. They branded the experience ecosystem, not the band.

The Outlier Moment: The Dark Side of the Moon stayed on Billboard 200 for 736 consecutive weeks (over 14 years). They proved that if you create something people want to live inside, they’ll never leave.

Inspiring Takeaway: Your product isn’t the hero—the customer’s transformation is. Pink Floyd pioneered “experiential branding” decades before it was a buzzword.

Application Across Industries: Disney doesn’t sell rides; they sell “magic.” Apple doesn’t sell phones; they sell ecosystems. Starbucks positioned as “third place,” not coffee shop. Nike’s “Just Do It” sells transformation, not shoes. The lesson: architect experiences so complete that people can’t separate the product from their identity. Relevant for hospitality, retail, SaaS onboarding, museum design, healthcare—anywhere human experience is the product.

 

6.GRATEFUL DEAD: Community as Competitive Advantage

The Core Story: A band that encouraged fans to bootleg concerts, created a ticket system for loyalists (Dead Heads), and generated 95% of revenue from touring when everyone else chased radio hits.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “You’re not a fan; you’re family.” The Dead made every follower feel like a participant in a living, evolving artwork.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: Give away your best product for free. They allowed—encouraged!—taping of live shows when the industry was suing bootleggers. This “freemium” model created evangelical fans who spent on tickets, merchandise, travel. They monetized devotion, not content.

The Outlier Moment: Creating a mailing list in the 1970s to sell tickets directly to fans, bypassing Ticketmaster fees—primitive CRM that built a database of 100,000 super fans who could be activated for any tour.

Inspiring Takeaway: Community beats content. Participation beats consumption. Generosity creates loyalty that turns customers into missionaries.

Application Across Industries: Harley-Davidson’s HOG clubs, Peloton’s community features, Salesforce’s Trailblazer community, GitHub’s open-source ethos—all descendants of Dead Head philosophy. For B2B: customer advisory boards, user conferences, and co-creation platforms. For D2C: Discord communities, beta tester programs, ambassador networks. The Dead proved that when you empower your audience to be co-creators, they’ll defend your brand more fiercely than any marketing campaign.

 

7.BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN: Authenticity as Armor

The Core Story: A working-class kid from New Jersey who rejected glam, rejected shortcuts, and built a 50-year career on three-hour shows and stories of ordinary people’s struggles.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “Your life, your pain, your hope—seen, heard, honored.” Springsteen made factory workers and waitresses feel like heroes in their own epic.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: Choose exhaustion over polish. While MTV demanded quick hits and choreography, Springsteen played marathon concerts, refused to lip-sync, and wrote 70+ verses for “The River.” He made effort visible when everyone else was hiding the seams.

The Outlier Moment: Pulling “Born in the USA” from Reagan’s campaign despite it being career-advantageous politically, because the message was being distorted. He chose brand integrity over short-term gain.

Inspiring Takeaway: Authenticity isn’t a tactic; it’s a 50-year commitment. Your brand is what you protect when compromising would be profitable.

Application Across Industries: Patagonia’s environmental activism even when costly, Costco’s refusal to raise hot dog prices, In-N-Out’s limited menu focus—these are Springsteen strategies. In professional services: thought leaders who admit “I don’t know,” consultants who fire bad-fit clients, agencies that show process not just results. For personal branding: sharing failures, maintaining principles during market downturns, consistency across decades. The Boss taught us that the most valuable brand asset is the one that can’t be counterfeited—your actual values.

 

8.THE DOORS: Danger as Differentiation

The Core Story: Jim Morrison positioned The Doors as shamanic rock poets—part Dionysian theater, part literary revolution, all unpredictability. No bass player, just organ filling the low end, creating a sound as unconventional as their image.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “We’ll take you to the edge, and maybe over it.” The Doors made you feel like you were accessing forbidden knowledge, flirting with danger from your bedroom.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: Weaponize volatility. Where professionalism was prized, Morrison made unpredictability the product. Would he show up? Would he get arrested? This unreliability became mythology.

The Outlier Moment: Morrison’s arrest in Miami (1969) for “indecent exposure” could have ended the band—instead it cemented their outlaw brand. They turned scandal into legend, controversy into currency.

Inspiring Takeaway: Sometimes the brand promise is risk itself. Calculated danger creates stories; stories create immortality.

Application Across Industries: Red Bull’s extreme sports sponsorships, Cards Against Humanity’s offensive humor as feature, Ryanair’s CEO’s deliberately provocative statements—they all channel Doors energy. In tech: move-fast-and-break-things startup culture. In marketing: controversial campaigns that polarize (Nike’s Kaepernick ad). The lesson: if everyone likes you, you’re forgettable. The Doors proved that making some people uncomfortable can make others devoted—as long as you’re authentic to your core. Not for every brand, but powerful for those with courage.

 

9.METALLICA: Evolution Without Abandonment

The Core Story: Thrash metal pioneers who survived lineup tragedy (Cliff Burton’s death), mainstream sellout accusations (Black Album), and Napster backlash by evolving while respecting roots.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “We grow, but we never forget where we came from.” Metallica made fans feel that aggression and sophistication could coexist, that success didn’t require betrayal of origins.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: They fought their fans’ wishes to preserve their vision. The Black Album (1991) was “too commercial” for purists—and became the best-selling album of the SoundScan era (17+ million in US). They chose expansion over appeasement.

The Outlier Moment: Some Kind of Monster documentary (2004)—showing therapy sessions, creative conflicts, weakness. They demystified the band at career peak, turning vulnerability into renewed credibility.

Inspiring Takeaway: Evolve visibly and explain nothing. Then, when challenged, show your humanity completely. Metallica mastered the balance between confidence and transparency.

Application Across Industries: Netflix’s shift from DVDs to streaming despite backlash, Adobe’s Creative Suite to Creative Cloud migration, Microsoft’s Satya Nadella transformation—all Metallica moves. For agencies: transitioning from traditional to digital services. For restaurants: elevating the menu while keeping signature dishes. The lesson: growth requires alienating some day-one fans, but if you’re authentic about why you are evolving, the right audience will follow. And when attacked, radical transparency can transform critics into respectors.

 

10.SCORPIONS: Longevity Through Reinvention

The Core Story: German rockers who went from psychedelic prog to heavy metal to power ballads, surviving 50+ years by reading cultural shifts and pivoting without losing identity.

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition): “Epic emotion, delivered with Germanic precision.” Scorpions made you feel grandeur—whether through shredding solos or orchestral ballads—always with meticulous craftsmanship.

Counter-Intuitive Strategy: Embrace the power ballad when you’re a metal band. “Wind of Change” (1990) became the anthem of Soviet collapse—not through heaviness, but through tenderness. They proved genre flexibility beats genre purity.

The Outlier Moment: “Wind of Change” selling 14+ million copies globally, becoming a geopolitical moment, showing that a rock band could score history itself by reading the room (the zeitgeist) perfectly.

Inspiring Takeaway: Longevity demands genre-fluidity. Your brand can be a “both/and” not just an “either/or.” Metal and ballads. German and global. Hard and soft.

Application Across Industries: IBM’s shift from hardware to services to cloud, Nintendo’s toy company to video game empire evolution, LEGO’s near-bankruptcy rescue through media franchises—all Scorpions-level pivots. For professional services: law firms adding consulting, consulting firms adding implementation. For product companies: Apple from computers to lifestyle ecosystem. The lesson: your core competency (Scorpions = emotion + precision) can manifest in radically different forms over time. Don’t confuse format with essence. The brands that last 50 years + are those that keep their soul while constantly updating their body.

 

THE UNIFIED THEORY: What Rock Taught Branding

 

These legends didn’t follow marketing textbooks—they wrote them in power chords and poetry. The patterns are clear:

1. Conviction Over Consensus: Jethro Tull’s flute, Zeppelin’s mystique, Dead’s free taping—all initially seemed insane.

2. Experience Over Product: Pink Floyd and Springsteen sold transformation, not songs.

3. Community Over Customers: Grateful Dead pioneered what tech calls “network effects” in 1967.

4. Authenticity Over Perfection: The Doors’ chaos, Metallica’s therapy—vulnerability connects deeper than polish.

5. Evolution Over Preservation: Scorpions and Metallica stayed relevant by growing uncomfortably.

6. Tension Over Harmony: Deep Purple’s friction created sparks; comfort creates mediocrity.

7. Scarcity Over Ubiquity: Zeppelin proved less can be infinitely more.

These aren’t music lessons. They’re master classes in building brands that don’t just survive—they become monuments.

Rock on.

 

A slightly offbeat attempt in this blog post. Consider this as an internal interview the post is conducting with you, the reader. Each question nudges with intent. Each answer attempts to ground. The idea being, together, they probe, provoke, prove, promise, and provide without preaching.

 

Some questions we are all probably avoiding? Here is An Uncomfortable, But Necessary Q&A:

 

Q1. What exactly is the Friendship Recession? It’s the gap between how many people we are connected to and how few we feel truly held by. A slow erosion, not a sudden crash. No drama, just drift.

 

Q2. But are we really lonely, or just nostalgic for another time? Loneliness today isn’t about being alone. It’s about being constantly reachable and rarely met. Nostalgia is a distraction. Presence is the missing ingredient.

 

Q3. We’re busy. Isn’t this just adulthood doing its thing? Partly. But adulthood didn’t steal friendship. We redesigned life to reward productivity over proximity, efficiency over emotional slack. We normalized canceling plans. Made “busy” a badge of honor. Turned “let’s catch up soon” into a socially acceptable lie.

 

Q4. Isn’t technology supposed to solve this? Technology solved access. It didn’t solve intimacy. We have faster connections and thinner bonds. Speed turned out to be a poor substitute for depth.

 

Q5. So what’s really broken here? Not people. Not effort. Design. We built days with no breathing room for friendship to exist without an agenda.

 

Q6. Why does friendship feel like a “nice-to-have” instead of something essential? Because it refuses measurement. Friendship doesn’t scale neatly, doesn’t report quarterly, doesn’t show up on dashboards. So we underinvest.

 

But I have hundreds of friends on social media. Doesn’t that count?

 

Does watching cooking videos make you a chef? Self-reported high loneliness scores affect between 10-40% of national populations across the United States, Japan, China and Europe—despite unprecedented digital connectivity. Social media gave us the appearance of connection without the substance. Real friendship requires vulnerability, time, and showing up when it’s inconvenient. Instagram doesn’t do inconvenient.

 

Q7. What’s the hidden cost of that underinvestment? Burnout that won’t respond to vacations. Teams that transact but don’t trust. Creativity that feels strained. Leadership that feels lonely at the top.

 

Q8. Is this a personal failure or a collective one? Collective. Most people didn’t choose to neglect friendship. They absorbed a system that quietly deprioritised it.

 

Q9. If friendship is so vital, why does it erode so quietly? Because it doesn’t demand attention when it’s fading. It just waits. Politely. Until one day the call feels awkward and the silence feels permanent.

 

Q10. Can friendships actually survive long gaps and changing lives? Yes. But only if we stop treating silence as neglect and start treating reconnection as normal. Friendship evolves. It doesn’t have to expire.

 

Q11. What’s the smallest unit of recovery from this recession? Not a grand gesture. A call instead of a like. Listening without fixing. Showing up without an agenda.

 

Q12. What role do leaders, creators, and marketers play in this? A bigger one than they realise. Culture mirrors behaviour. Transactional leaders breed transactional teams. Human leaders create room for real connection.

 

Q13. Is there a competitive advantage to deeper friendships? Absolutely. Friends sharpen thinking, soften certainty, and make risk survivable. They are emotional infrastructure in uncertain times.

 

Q14. What does success look like if we take the Friendship Recession seriously? Smaller circles, stronger bonds. Fewer updates, richer conversations. Time that looks inefficient but feels deeply replenishing.

 

Q15. So how does this recession actually end? Not with a viral post or a public pledge. It ends with a conversation that doesn’t need documenting. One person. One unhurried moment. Repeated.

 

Q16.Is “networking” killing actual friendship?

 

Absolutely. Networking is transactional. Friendship is transformational. When every relationship has an ROI calculation, genuine connection becomes impossible. In Japan, reports of communication with family and friends are much less frequent, regardless of whether someone reports loneliness—suggesting cultural workplace norms shape social behavior. You can’t optimize your way into intimacy.

 

Q17.What’s the real promise here? What changes if we fix this?

 

Everything. Research shows our wellbeing and health are maximized by having approximately five close friends—though this varies by gender and personality. When you’re truly connected, work gets easier, stress gets manageable, joy gets amplified. Strong social connections can lead to better health and longer life. The promise? Life becomes livable again. Not optimized. Not productive. Just deeply, messily, beautifully human.

 

The friendship recession ends when we stop waiting for connection to happen and start building it. One honest conversation at a time.

 

The quiet promise beneath it all

 

The Friendship Recession isn’t asking us to feel guilty. It’s asking us to be intentional.

 

Because in a world obsessed with growth, friendship grows best when it’s allowed to be inefficient, unspectacular, and real.

 

And that may be the most strategic investment we make next year and beyond.

 

Come January 2026. And the pressure to have it all sorted out is the trap that most of us fall prey to.

 

While everyone’s posting their perfectly aligned strategy decks, the truth is messier and more interesting. The brands that will thrive in 2026 won’t be the ones with flawless forecasts—they’ll be the ones who learn to dance with uncertainty.

 

So what does 2026 hold for you? Not what you think. And that’s exactly the point.

 

Uncertainty Is Your Competitive Advantage

 

Not long ago, you might remember we thought AI would “settle down” by now? When economic forecasts felt reliable? When consumer behavior followed predictable patterns?

 

2026 laughs at our optimism.

 

But here’s the counterintuitive truth: The brands struggling most are the ones still trying to plan their way out of chaos. The ones finding momentum are experimenting their way through it.

 

The shift: From “Let me perfect this strategy” to “Let me learn something this week.”

 

Try This Test

 

Identify one assumption your brand is operating on. Just one. Now design a small, cheap experiment to test if it’s actually true. Budget: the lowest you can afford. Timeline: two weeks max.

 

Hypothesis

 

You are a skincare brand. And your go-to is that your audience wants ‘ clinical proof ‘ messaging. A simple Instagram Story poll revealed they actually craved “real results from real humans.” One assumption challenged, entire content strategy shifted. Cost: Zero.

 

Speed Over Perfection( Smart In-Built)

 

The tyranny of polish is killing creative confidence. But speed without strategy is just noise.

 

2026 demands a new balance: Fast, focused, and forgiving.

 

Think of your brand as a jazz musician, not a classical orchestra. The orchestra needs months of rehearsal to perform. The jazz musician improvises in real-time, responding to what’s actually happening in the room.

 

The 48-Hour Response Framework:

 

When culture moves, you have a two-day window. Not to jump on every trend, but to decide if you should. Ask three questions:

 

1. Does this connect to our brand truth? (Not our positioning—our truth.)
2. Can we add value or just volume?
3. Will we care about this in a month?

 

If yes to all three, move. If no to any, sit it out with confidence.

 

You Don’t Need Permission: You Already Have It

 

You don’t need more data to make your next move. You need more courage.

 

Data is seductive because it feels safe. But every breakthrough brand moment comes from someone deciding to trust their instinct and test it in the wild, not in a conference room.

 

What This Could Look Like

Launch the weird idea you keep talking yourself out of

Partner with the creator who feels “off-brand” on paper but right in your gut

Write the email you think might be too vulnerable

Try the channel everyone says is “dead” for your category

 

The pattern: The brands we celebrate in case studies weren’t smarter. They were braver.

 

Three Things That Will Actually Matter In 2026

 

Strip away the noise, and three things remain true:

1. Humans are overwhelmed and craving simplicity.
Your brand clarity is a gift. Complexity is the enemy.

2. Trust is the only moat left.
Performance marketing will get them to click. Only trust gets them to stay.

3. Creative confidence compounds.
Every small bet you make builds the muscle for bigger ones. Start small. Start now.

 

Last But Not Certainly The Least

 

You know that campaign idea you’re sitting on? The one that feels risky but right? The one you keep refining, waiting for the perfect moment?

 

The perfect moment is a myth.

 

But this moment—messy, uncertain, beautifully imperfect—is real. And it’s enough.

 

2026 isn’t waiting for you to have it all figured out. It’s waiting for you to show up anyway.

 

So here’s your field guide distilled: Experiment faster. Connect deeper. Trust harder.

 

The brands that will define this coming year aren’t the ones with the best predictions. They’re the ones brave enough to build something beautiful in the uncertainty.

 

Now go make something that scares you a little.

 

A Playlist For 2026( Worth Trying In Month 1)

 

The 5×5 Rule: Interview 5 customers for 5 minutes each, asking one question: “What’s one thing we don’t know about you?”

The Opposite Brief: Take your best-performing content. Create its exact opposite. Test both. Be surprised.

The Honest Subject Line: Send one email with the most human, vulnerable, un-marketing subject line you can write.

The Partner Swap: Find a non-competing brand with your values. Do something together with zero budget. Cooperative Marketing.

The Friday Ship: Every Friday, ship something—a post, an idea, a note. Make it routine.

 

Here’s to the beautiful mess coming up in 2026.

 

Let’s cut the corporate karma and dive straight into the gut of it. The most dangerous word in a leadership vocabulary isn’t a four-letter expletive. It’s a three-letter conjunction: BUT.

 

This is a conversation of, by & for “ And V But “. As great conversations don’t contradict. They compound.

 

We have all gone through it. Conversations dying the moment someone says ‘but ‘. Often times, our creative director and team at ISD Global pitch a brilliant idea. The client leans forward, eyes lit up, mouth opened and…”I love it, but can we make it more corporate?”

 

And just like that, the idea flatlines.

 

The Assassin In The Room

 

“But” is the most polite assassin in the English language. It wears a smile, nods encouragingly, and then quietly strangles every word that came before it.

 

Think about it. When someone says “You’re talented, but…” do you remember the compliment? Hell no. You’re already bracing for impact.

 

“But” is the eraser that shows up after the pen has written. It’s the delete key disguised as punctuation. It’s the conversation killer we’ve all normalized.

 

Enter the Humble Revolutionary: AND

 

Now consider this small act of linguistic rebellion: Replace “but” with “and.”

 

“I love it, and can we explore how to make it work for corporate?”

 

Feel that? The idea didn’t die. It expanded. The conversation didn’t close. It opened.

 

This isn’t semantics. This is survival.

 

In a world addicted to binaries—right or wrong, win or lose, agree or disagree—“and” is the bridge we forgot we could build. It’s the difference between playing chess and playing jazz. One eliminates possibilities. The other creates them.

 

Three Conversations That Changed Because Of One Word

 

The Pitch: A startup founder told investors, “We’re not profitable yet, and we’ve captured 40% market share in six months.” The round closed. Why? Because “and” let both truths coexist without one canceling the other.

 

The Feedback: A manager told an employee, “Your report was thorough, and I think trimming it by 30% would make it sharper.” The employee didn’t defend. She improved. “And” invited collaboration instead of combat.

 

The Conflict: Two partners were stuck. One said, “I hear that you want to pivot, and I’m concerned about our existing commitments.” Not agreement. Not capitulation. Just space for both realities to breathe.

 

The Dangerous Comfort of BUT

 

Here’s why we cling to “but“—it lets us stay safe. It allows us to acknowledge something without actually accepting it. It’s the conversational equivalent of liking someone’s post but never showing up when it matters.

 

“And” is riskier. It demands we hold contradictions simultaneously. It asks us to be adults about complexity. It refuses the lazy comfort of either/or thinking.

 

The Science Of It

 

Neuroscience doesn’t lie. BUT triggers a threat response in the brain—a mini amygdala hijack. AND triggers a reward response. It invites the prefrontal cortex, the seat of creativity and problem-solving, to the party. You’re not just being nice; you’re engineering better brain chemistry for innovation.

 

The Provoke Principle

 

Every conversation is a co-creation or a demolition. You choose which with every word.

 

“But” demolishes. It signals: what you said doesn’t really matter because here comes what actually matters.

 

“And” co-creates. It signals: what you said matters and there’s more to explore here.

 

The next time you’re about to say “but,” pause. Ask yourself: am I trying to win this conversation or grow it?

 

Truth be told: The most powerful people in any room aren’t the ones with the best arguments. They’re the ones who can hold multiple truths at once, who can say “you’re right, and let me add this,” who understand that great conversations aren’t about conclusions—they’re about connections.

 

Start using “and.” Watch what happens.

 

Your relationships will acknowledge you. Your ideas will multiply. Your influence will grow.

 

And you’ll finally understand what real conversation feels like.

 

Your AND is your superpower. It’s the difference between being a critic and a co-creator. Between a transaction and a partnership. Between a room of defensive individuals and a tribe building a future.

Stop arguing. Start AND-ing.

 

Close your eyes. Play this in the beautiful landscape of your mind.

 

You’re at a five-star buffet of life, piling your plate sky-high with everyone else’s seconds—boss’s deadlines, lover’s moods, kid’s tantrums. Then the lights flicker. The mirror cracks. And a voice whispers, “Plate’s full, genius. Yours is empty.” Ouch. Or is it?

 

Dear Love, it is time to spill it. What wisdom hides in the art of doting on myself? Because let’s face it, we’re all pros at self-sabotage marathons—running ragged for applause that never comes. For attention that is never received.

Dear Love, what would you have me know about learning how to dote upon myself?

 

Walking past a mirror and actually liking what you see. Not tolerating. Not accepting. Liking.

 

We live in a world where we’ll binge-watch seven seasons of other people’s lives but can’t sit with ourselves for seven minutes without reaching for a distraction. Where we’ll send “thinking of you” texts to seventeen people but never to the one person reading this right now.

 

So we ask Love itself: What would you have me know about learning how to dote upon myself?

 

And Love, that cheeky b*X*>, laughed.

 

The Museum Guard Who Changed Everything

 

You might be aware of this unverified story which I chanced upon recently.

 

There’s this security guard at the Louvre Museum—Henri—who spent 40 years watching tourists photograph the Mona Lisa while never looking at the painting themselves. All lens, no presence. One day, his daughter asked, “Papa, when was the last time you just looked at her?”

 

He realized he’d been in the room with beauty for decades but never actually with it.

 

We’re all Henri. In the room with ourselves—this wild, unrepeatable consciousness—but busy documenting life for an audience that’s also not paying attention.

 

What Love Actually Said

 

When you press Love harder, it gets serious:

 

“Doting isn’t self-indulgence. It’s self-preservation. You can’t love from an empty vessel. You can only leak desperation and resentment from there. Fill yourself first. Overflow second.”

 

Then it added: “And stop waiting for someone else to give you permission. That’s not love—that’s probably hostage negotiation.”

 

Self-doting isn’t bubble baths and affirmations. It’s the revolutionary act of treating your own company as valuable.

 

My Pickup Truck Epiphany If You Will…

Last month, I chased a client deadline( you can ask, what’s new?) like a dog after its tail—emails at 2 AM, coffee as blood. Crashed into a wall (metaphorical, thankfully). Sat in my car, engine off, staring at the dashboard. Asked Love: “What now?” Answer hit like cheap whiskey: Stop driving everyone else’s car. Tune yours. Doted on myself with 20 minutes of nothingness. Zilch. Bliss. Paced my story? Chaos to calm in one gear shift.

 

The Monk Who Quit Enlightenment

Jiddu Krishnamurti, the anti-guru guru, ditching his messiah role at 30. Why? He saw “enlightenment” as another’s script. He chose self-doting—quiet walks, unscripted thoughts. Rare truth: The guy who could’ve owned spirituality said no. Lesson? Dote first, or your soul starves amid the spotlight.

 

But what if doting isn’t bubble baths and brunches? What if it’s rebellion?

 

The Elephant In The…

 

Elephants. These titans dote via “dust baths”—rolling in mud not for spa vibes, but survival. Mud blocks sun, kills parasites. Rare? They teach calves this ritual young. Humans? We slather on others’ mud and call it loyalty.

 

So, If You Need An Invitation…

 

For one week, treat yourself like someone you’re trying to seduce. Not impress—seduce. Notice what you need before you need it. Laugh at your own jokes. Cancel plans that feel like obligations. Buy the good coffee. Dance in your kitchen. Be unabashedly pleased by your own existence.

 

Because…here’s the secret they don’t print on motivational posters: The love you’re seeking? It’s already here. In the body that carried you through every heartbreak. In the mind that never stopped trying. In the soul that’s reading this, hoping for permission.

 

Consider it granted.

 

So, If You Read This Far, How About Some Takeaways?

 

Dote like a rebel: Say no to one “yes” today. Watch your energy roar back.

Mirror ritual: Daily, ask, “What feeds me?” Not them. Journal it.

Elephant wisdom: Muddy up your boundaries. Rare truth—self-care isn’t selfish; it’s seismic.

Krishnamurti hack: Quit one “should.” Walk. Think free.

 

Dear Love, you whisper: Doting on myself isn’t indulgence; it’s insurrection against a world that devours the undoted. Start small—your truck awaits. Provoke yourself first.

 

What’s your dust bath? Hit reply. Let’s stir the mud.

 

 

Going back in time a bit. February 2013. Super Bowl XLVII. The stadium lights go dark for 34 excruciating minutes. The most expensive advertising night in America has just become a black hole. Network executives panic. Advertisers who paid millions for 30-second spots start hyperventilating. And somewhere in a war room, the Oreo team is doing something completely bonkers.

 

They tweet.

 

“Power out? No problem. You can still dunk in the dark.”

 

One image. One line. Zero ad buy. 525 million impressions.

 

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the age of FASTvertising—where timing beats budget, wit trumps polish, and the fastest finger on the keyboard wins.

 

The Culture Moves Fast. Brands, Not So Much

 

Traditional advertising cycles simply cannot keep pace with today’s hyperconnected public conversation. While you’re still waiting for legal to sign off on that campaign deck, the internet has already moved through three memes, four controversies, and seventeen TikTok trends.

 

FASTvertising offers brands a way to not only capture attention but also build authentic connections with audiences, and when executed well, can earn disproportionate returns.

 

The lesson(opportunity)here? Stop acting like a corporation. Start acting like culture.

 

( It is worth reading the HBR article from their Jan-Feb 2026 issue ” Marketing At The Speed Of Culture “).

 

What Happened When Aviation Gin Hijacked a PR Disaster?

 

December 2019. Peloton releases a holiday ad. A husband gifts his already-thin wife a $2,200 exercise bike. The internet collectively loses its mind. The backlash is swift, brutal, and viral. Peloton’s stock drops 10%.

 

Enter Ryan Reynolds and Maximum Effort. Within 72 hours—not weeks, not months—they produce a response ad starring the same actress from the Peloton commercial. She’s at a bar with girlfriends, downing Aviation Gin, looking shell-shocked. The implication? That marriage didn’t work out.

 

The caption Reynolds tweets: “Exercise bike not included.”

 

The result? 13 billion impressions without spending a dime on media placement. The ad helped drive Aviation Gin’s eventual $610 million acquisition by Diageo.

 

It gets more mouth-watering: when “And Just Like That” killed off Mr. Big on a Peloton bike, Maximum Effort struck again within 48 hours with an ad called “He’s Alive,” featuring Chris Noth alive and well. They turned Peloton’s nightmare into their advantage—twice.

 

That’s not marketing. That’s cultural jiu-jitsu.

 

May This FOURce For FASTvertising Be With You

 

1.Culture isn’t a Target Audience. It is the Oxygen

 

Fastvertising works by creating ads quickly to be at the moment, at the culture, usually in reaction to some trend that is already happening. The operative word? Already happening. You’re not creating culture; you’re joining the conversation that’s raging without you.

 

India’s own Amul has been the unsung OG of this game for over 50 years. Every time news breaks—whether it’s a political scandal, a Bollywood release, or a cricket victory—the Amul Girl shows up with a pun-laden topical ad that’s equal parts cheeky and charming. The brand’s popularity and endurance in the Indian market are largely down to Amul’s persistent moment marketing, spending less than 1% of revenue on advertising while competitors burn 8-15%.

 

2. Talent That Moves At The Speed Of Culture

 

Something that is left unsaid most of the time: success demands cross-functional teams empowered to act quickly, streamlined governance to cut through red tape, and an awareness of tone that distinguishes humor from insensitivity.

 

Wendy’s transformed their Twitter presence in 2017 by empowering their social media team, abolishing bureaucratic reviews. The result? A snarky, savage voice that roasts competitors and fans alike. When someone asked where the nearest McDonald’s was, Wendy’s replied with a trash can emoji. When asked “How much does a Big Mac cost?” they responded: “Your dignity.”

 

They didn’t just gain 153,900 new followers during their TikTok campaign—they invented National Roast Day, an entire holiday dedicated to their brand personality.

 

3. Timing Is The New Creative

 

The 72-hour window is sacred. Viral moments lose steam after three days. Miss that window, and you’re not part of the conversation—you’re a sad reply to a deleted tweet.

 

Remember when Britain nearly imploded over #Marmitegate in 2016? Tesco pulled Marmite from shelves during a pricing dispute with Unilever post-Brexit. Asda and Iceland immediately took out cheeky ads in the Daily Mail and Metro, with Iceland offering readers a free jar of Marmite. By the time the dispute was resolved, these opportunistic rivals had already won the cultural moment.

 

Later, Marmite brilliantly co-opted Brexit division with their “Hard Breakfast, Soft Breakfast, No Breakfast” campaign, playing on their famous “Love it or Hate it” tagline with the line “Dividing the nation since 1902.” Simple. Print. Devastating.

 

4. Processes That Don’t Suffocate Speed

 

Gen AI can speed up content production, but human judgment remains indispensable. This isn’t about robots writing ads. It’s about having the organizational backbone to make decisions in hours, not weeks.

 

Maximum Effort exists precisely because traditional agency structures are antithetical to speed. Reynolds owns both the agency and the brand (Aviation Gin at the time), eliminating the client-agency-legal-finance approval gauntlet that kills momentum.

 

Zomato in India gets this. Whether it’s their “we aren’t accepting orders” post on Independence Day or arranging three cups of tea to resemble the iPhone 11 Pro’s camera with the hashtag “Do it like a Pro for less than 199,” Zomato constantly delivers sarcastic, brilliant social media posts. When actor Rahul Bose complained about being charged ₹442 for two bananas at a hotel, Zomato jumped in: “You could buy a banana milkshake and banana split for less.”

 

How Did IKEA Turn A TV Show Into A Cultural Coup?

 

Game of Thrones. Final season. Cultural phenomenon. IKEA doesn’t make medieval furniture. So what did they do?

 

They released a cheeky campaign showing how you could recreate the iconic GoT cloaks and furs using IKEA rugs. The playful nod to pop culture was pitch-perfect—self-aware, relevant, and shared obsessively by fans who appreciated the humor.

 

These examples demonstrate how speed and relevance can outweigh production polish.

 

Yes There Is A Dark Side To FASTvertising

 

Not every cultural moment needs your take. DiGiorno learned this the hard way when they jumped on the #WhyIStayed hashtag without realizing it was about domestic violence survivors. They tweeted: “You had pizza.”

 

Yikes.

 

The biggest danger is thinking every trend needs your input. Sometimes the best fastvertising is knowing when to sit one out. If you have to ask “Is this too edgy?” it probably is.

 

The rules are simple:

• Keep humor light and clever, never mean
• Avoid politics or divisive topics completely
• Know your context—understand the full story before jumping in

 

The FASTvertising Playbook:India

 

While the West obsesses over Super Bowl moments, India has mastered a different art form. Brands here don’t just react to culture—they are culture.

 

Fasoos during Mumbai’s power outage: “Andheri or Andhera, we’re still delivering.” (Playing on the suburb name Andheri which means “darkness”)

 

Pepsi timing Shefali Verma’s brand ambassador announcement during the ICC Women’s T20 World Cup on International Women’s Day, beating official sponsor Coca-Cola in conversation share.

 

Netflix India riding the “Rasode mein kaun tha“ viral meme to promote Peaky Blinders, or cleverly tying Mumbai’s rain to binge-watching.

 

These aren’t accidents. They’re the result of teams that live in culture, not in conference rooms.

 

What Can We Learn From The HBR Article ” Marketing At The Speed Of Culture “

Co-authored by Ryan Reynolds, Ayelet Israeli, Leonard A. Schlesinger, Matt Higgins, goes beyond academic theory.

 

It’s a practitioner’s manifesto. Ultimately, fastvertising is not just about being fast—it’s about showing up with humility, humor, and humanity in the cultural moments that matter most.

 

Humility: You’re joining a conversation, not hijacking it.
Humor: If you can’t make people smile, why are you even here?
Humanity: Brands are run by humans. Act like them.

 

What Could We Look At Taking Away?

 

Stop thinking like a marketer. Start thinking like a culture participant.

 

Your competition isn’t other brands. It’s indifference. In a world where attention is the scarcest commodity, fastvertising offers something radical: the ability to be remembered not because you bought the most ad space, but because you said something at exactly the right moment that made people feel seen.

 

Aviation Gin generated 13 billion impressions in 72 hours with zero media spend. Oreo created a case study taught in business schools with one tweet. Amul has been India’s advertising darling for half a century spending virtually nothing.

 

The playbook isn’t complicated:

1. Live in culture, not above it
2. Empower teams to move fast
3. Value timing over perfection
4. Know when to sit out
5. Be human, not corporate

 

Your brand doesn’t need a bigger budget. It needs a faster heartbeat.

 

The lights will go out again. Another PR disaster will erupt. A meme will explode. A cultural moment will arrive.

 

The question isn’t whether it will happen. The question is: Will you be ready?

 

Because in the age of fastvertising, slow doesn’t just lose. Slow becomes invisible.

 

So kill the 17-layer approval process. Trust your team’s instincts. Stop polishing turds when you should be launching missiles. The culture is moving. Either catch up or watch from the sidelines as brands with one-tenth your budget steal the show.

 

Remember: Fastvertising offers brands a way to build authentic connections when done well, earning disproportionate returns.

 

The moment is now. The culture is waiting. Time for your move.

 

Now go. Be fast. Be brilliant. Be culture.

 

The formula is criminally simple: Take something old. Add “limited edition.” Watch grown adults weep into their wallets.

 

What’s the scent of your childhood? For millions, it’s not monsoon soil. It’s the plastic-and-promise aroma of a new G.I. Joe, the saccharine haze of a melting Kwality Wall’s, or the electric fizz of a Campa Cola. They aren’t selling you a product. They’re selling you a time machine. And the fare is your wallet.

 

Why does a 40-year-old with arthritic knees and a cynical heart get misty-eyed over a cheesy jingle? Because nostalgia isn’t memory. It’s pain-free memory. Brands aren’t archaeologists; they’re editors. They curate our past, airbrush the crappy parts, and sell back the highlight reel. The genius? We pay a premium to feel poor again. Ironic, no?

 

Hollywood’s a broken record. Star Wars isn’t a saga; it’s a heritage asset. Netflix resurrects Stranger Things like a cultural necromancer. And Nintendo? They’ve repackaged the same 8-bit Mario for four decades. We don’t just buy it; we thank them for the privilege of our own déjà vu.

 

The Science of Sentiment Selling

 

Nike re-released the Air Jordan 1s fifty-three times. Not because they ran out of ideas—because they ran the numbers. Levi’s “501 Original” campaign doesn’t sell jeans; it sells your dad’s rebellion. Apple’s retro rainbow logo appears on limited merch, reminding you when computers were magical, not just necessary.

 

Even Cadbury brought back their 1990s “Kuch Meetha Ho Jaaye” positioning, knowing that Indians don’t just buy chocolate—we buy moments we want back.

 

Truth be told: Brands aren’t preserving your memories. They’re strip-mining them for profit.

 

The Paradox

 

The greatest irony? We’re using tomorrow’s technology to consume yesterday’s dreams. Streaming services filled with shows about the past. Instagram filters that make 2024 look like 1974. Spotify playlists titled “Old Songs Only.”

 

We’re not moving forward. We’re moonwalking into the future.

 

Nostalgia isn’t memory; it’s a mortgage on your feels, paying for tomorrow’s R&D.

 

The Emotional ATM for Brands

 

Ever wonder why Fevicol’s “Dum Laga Ke Haisha” ad glues you? It’s yesterday’s bhangra buying quantum computing tomorrow. Irreverent truth: Nostalgia’s the ultimate grift—free tears, premium ROI.

 

The Replay Button Hack

 

Why do reboots outsell originals? Because your brain is a lazy DJ, spinning ’80s synths to fund Marvel’s multiverse. Stranger Things revives Eggo waffles—sales spike 200%. Indian twist: Mirzapur Season 3 drops, and suddenly every chai stall’s hawking “Munna Bhaiya” banarasi paan. Hook: What if your childhood crush funded Elon’s Mars shot?

 

The Yesterday Industrial Complex

 

Nintendo’s selling you the same Mario you played in 1985—now on a Switch. Stranger Things made us nostalgic for a decade most of us hated living through.

 

In India, Amul’s mastered this dark art for decades. Same girl. Same polka dots. Same font since 1966. They’re not selling butter—they’re selling your childhood breakfast table. Britannia brings back “Good Day” memories with the same jingle that made your grandmother smile. Bajaj recently resurrected the Chetak scooter as an electric vehicle, banking on the tears of every middle-class family’s Sunday drives.

 

Why does this work?

 

Because nostalgia is the only time machine that comes with a Buy Now button.

 

Nostalgia’s Alchemy: Global Heists

 

Coca-Cola dusts off Santa Claus—holiday sales: $10B. Levi’s 501s whisper “rebel youth” to Gen Z wallets.

 

The Wake Up Call

 

Nostalgia is comfort food for the anxious soul. But here’s the thing about comfort food—consume too much, and you stop growing.

 

Smart brands know this. They don’t just mine the past; they remix it. They ask: What if we took what worked yesterday and rebuilt it for who we’re becoming tomorrow?

 

Because the real magic isn’t in selling yesterday.

 

It’s in reminding people that the feelings they’re chasing—joy, simplicity, connection—don’t require a time machine.

 

They require presence.

 

 

 

Because playing small is far more exhausting than dreaming outrageously.

 

A confession please.

 

For years, I believed 10% growth was responsible. Adult. Boardroom-approved. The kind of number that doesn’t make the corner office leaders look up from their perennial ledger of lack( or choke on their cold brew).

 

10% felt safe. Sensible. Sensationally…uninspiring.

 

Then recently I stumbled upon a slim, dangerous little book by Price Pritchett called You². And it quietly punched a hole through everything I thought I knew about ambition, effort, and scale.

His provocation was simple—and explosive:

 

10X goals are often easier than 10% goals.

 

At first glance, this sounds like motivational speaker madness.

 

At second glance, it’s operational genius.

 

At third glance, it’s deeply uncomfortable—because it exposes how addicted we are to incremental thinking.

 

Why Your Brain Hates 10% (But Loves 10X)

 

Neuroscience time, but I’ll keep it short.

 

When you set a 10% goal, your brain rummages through its existing toolkit. “Okay, work harder, optimize this, tweak that.” You’re in incremental mode. You’re competing with everyone else who has the same toolkit, fighting for the same scraps. Remember, the brain is the laziest organ in the body.

 

It’s a Red Ocean strategy in Blue Ocean clothing.

 

When you set a 10X goal, your brain short-circuits. It cannot use existing methods. The math doesn’t work. So it starts asking different questions:

 

• “What if we didn’t do it this way at all?”
• “Who’s already solved a version of this in another industry?”
• “What are we assuming that might not be true?”

 

This is why Elon Musk didn’t say “let’s make rocket launches 10% cheaper.” He said “let’s make them 90% cheaper by landing and reusing them.” Absurd? Yes. Impossible? Well, watch a Falcon 9 land on a drone ship in the middle of the ocean and then let us talk about impossible.

 

The Tyranny of the Reasonable

 

The truth about incremental goals that does not get airtime is this: They’re soul-crushingly boring.

 

And when something bores you, you sabotage it. Not consciously. But your brain—that magnificent pattern-recognition machine—knows the difference between “slightly better” and “holy-shit-this-changes-everything.”

 

Price Pritchett nailed this in his cult classic booklet You² (pronounced “You Squared”- pl see book cover above). In barely 40 pages, he demolishes the myth that bigger goals require proportionally bigger effort. Instead, he argues that quantum leaps require different thinking, not just more thinking.

 

But let’s get dirty( unreasonable) with some examples, shall we?

 

The Curiosity Loop: What Happens When You Go Big?

 

Now you’re wondering: What about regular businesses? Regular people?”

 

Fair question. Let’s talk about Lijjat Papad.

 

Seven Gujarati housewives in 1959. Starting capital: ₹80 borrowed. Goal: Financial independence in a society that didn’t want them working.

 

Did they say, “Let’s increase our household income by 10%”?

 

Hell no.

 

They said, “Let’s build an organization owned entirely by women workers.” Today, Lijjat is a ₹1,600 crore enterprise employing 43,000 women across India. Those seven women didn’t incrementally improve their situation. They invented a new category.

 

The Japanese Salaryman Who Quit Climbing Ladders for Skydiving

 

Japan’s karoshi culture—death by overwork—is infamous. Enter Hiroshi Mikitani, Rakuten’s founder. In 1997, he didn’t aim for 10% more sales at his job. He quit, bet his life savings on an internet startup when dial-up was for nerds, targeting a $100 billion empire. Today? Rakuten’s a beast. 10% increments? He’d still be filing TPS reports in a cubicle, keeling over at 55. Hiroshi didn’t tweak; he torched the ladder. Think about this: What if your next “increment” is actually a trapdoor?

 

ISRO vs NASA Budgets

 

ISRO’s Mars Orbiter Mission cost less than a Hollywood sci-fi movie. It is common knowledge now.

 

That wasn’t jugaad. That was 10X clarity.

 

Instead of asking: “How do we match NASA?”

 

They asked:

 

“How do we achieve the mission with radically fewer resources?”

 

10X goals force focus, not excess.

 

Netflix Didn’t Beat Blockbuster by Being 10% Better

 

Blockbuster tried:

 

• Better stores
• More titles
• Lower late fees (eventually)

 

Netflix asked a 10X question: “What if movies never required a store at all?”

 

That question made stores irrelevant.

 

10X thinking doesn’t compete.

 

It changes the game so competition looks silly.

 

The Tyranny of 10% Thinking

 

A 10% goal asks a deceptively hard question:

 

“How do we do what we’re already doing… but slightly better?”

 

Which usually translates to:

• More meetings
• Longer decks
• Extra pressure on already exhausted teams
• Marginal tweaks dressed up as transformation

 

It keeps the same people,
the same processes,
the same mental models
—and expects a different outcome.

 

That’s not growth. That’s cardio.

 

10% goals trap us inside the prison of existing constraints.

 

They force optimisation, not imagination.

 

Why 10X Blows the Doors Open

 

So what happens when you ask a 10X question:

 

“What would this look like if we had to grow ten times?”

 

Suddenly:

• Old assumptions collapse
• Sacred cows panic
• PowerPoint hides in the corner

 

Because 10X cannot be achieved by working harder.
It demands working differently.

 

10X goals don’t ask for more effort.
They ask for reinvention.

 

And paradoxically, that’s why they’re easier.

 

The Psychological Truth(in Hiding)

 

Here’s the part where most leadership miss the wood for the trees:

 

10% goals are emotionally heavy.

• You feel the grind
• You feel the pressure
• You feel the incrementalism sucking your soul dry

 

10X goals are emotionally liberating.

 

• You give yourself permission to break rules
• You stop defending the past
• You start designing the future

 

As Price Pritchett says in You²:

 

“Quantum leaps aren’t about more effort. They’re about different thinking.”

 

And different thinking is lighter than constant pushing.

 

But What About Failure?

 

I know you’re thinking, “this is all very inspiring, but what about risk? What about failure?”

 

That is an excellent question. And sorry to disappoint you: You’re already failing.

 

Staying in the 10% lane means you’re competing with everyone else in the 10% lane. Your odds of success aren’t actually higher—they’re lower, because you’re in a crowded field fighting for scraps.

 

Plus, here’s the mind numb: When you aim for 10% and hit 8%, you’ve failed. When you aim for 10X and hit 3X, you’re a hero.

 

The risk isn’t in going big. The risk is in thinking small in a world that rewards big thinking.

 

Why Leaders Fear 10X (But Secretly Crave It)

 

10X exposes:

• Legacy mindsets
• Power structures
• Comfort disguised as caution

 

Which is why organisations say they want transformation but fund incrementalism.

 

10X doesn’t fail because it’s unrealistic. It fails because it’s honest.

 

In Closing, The Takeaway

 

10X goals are easier than 10% goals because they force you out of competitive markets and into creative ones.

 

They give you energy, attract better talent, and paradoxically reduce risk by reducing competition.

 

You’re not competing against everyone anymore.

 

You’re competing against what’s possible.

 

And what’s possible is always bigger than what’s reasonable.

 

Now go do something unreasonable.

 

Further Reading

 

You² (You Squared) by Price Pritchett – A 40-page manifesto on quantum leaps in performance. Read it in an hour. Think about it for years. Available on Amazon and worth every dollar | rupee.

 

Two words that have been propagated since early childhood into our mental operating system: Try Harder. That’s a cruel little myth we’ve been force-fed. As if effort alone can out-muscle the gravitational pull of everything around us.

 

Because we’ve been sold a lie. A beautifully packaged, multi-billion dollar lie that success, health, and productivity are born from a single, Herculean muscle: Willpower. You’ve been told to swim upstream. To fight the current. To be the salmon. I’m here to tell you that the salmon, for all its effort, usually ends up dead and eaten by a bear. Charming, I know.The truth is, your willpower is a finite, flimsy little shield. Your environment, however, is a relentless, 24/7 army. Guess who wins?

The Lisbon ‘Mojito Trigger’: Why Your Cues Are Smarter Than You

 

Lisbon, mid-2000s. The city had a problem. A litter problem. The authorities had tried everything—fines, campaigns, you name it. They were swimming upstream. Then, a behavioural insights team did something absurdly simple.They placed small, quirky, brightly designed bins around the city that made a funny sound—a comical “thwump” or a silly jingle—when you tossed trash in. They didn’t appeal to willpower (“Citizens, you should keep the city clean!”). They redesigned the environment.Littering dropped dramatically. The act of throwing trash became a tiny, delightful game. The environment was no longer passive; it was an active participant, making the right behavior easy and fun.

 

This is what I call a “Positive Trigger.” Your environment is full of them. The problem is, most are sabotaging you.

 

The cookie jar on the counter is a trigger.

The Netflix button on your remote is a trigger.

The phone notification is a screaming, neon-lit trigger.

You, relying on willpower, are a medieval soldier facing a drone strike. It’s not a fair fight.

 

The Surat ‘Silent Saboteur’: How India’s Diamond Capital Cut Distraction

 

Now, let’s bring it closer home. To the relentless, chaotic, and glorious energy of an Indian city, Surat. Imagine trying to get deep work done here. Your willpower stands no chance against the “chai-wallah!”call, the blaring horns, and the gravitational pull of family demands.

 

But in the diamond polishing units of Surat, they cracked this code centuries ago. In these workshops, artisans perform work that demands microscopic focus for hours on end. A single lapse could mean a fortune lost.Their secret? It wasn’t superior discipline. It was a perfectly crafted environment.The workshops are designed as sound-proofed, climate-controlled cocoons. The lighting is perfect, the seating ergonomic.

 

But the masterstroke?

 

The “No-Voice Zone.” They developed a complex, silent hand-signal language to communicate everything from “pass me that tool” to “lunch is here.”They didn’t tell their artisans to “focus harder.” They surgically removed the environmental distractions that required focus to overcome. They stopped the current, so they didn’t have to swim.Are you building a ‘No-Voice Zone‘ for your most important work? Or are you trying to perform brain surgery in a crowded bazaar and then blaming your shaky hands?

 

Stop Swimming Upstream. Start Redirecting the River

 

So, what’s the play? Do we just surrender to our surroundings? No. We become environmental architects.This isn’t about white-knuckling your way through the day. It’s about making the right behavior the path of least resistance, and the wrong one a pain in the you-know-what.

 

The Architecture of Behavior

 

We’ve been sold the biggest lie in self-help literature: that success is a function of grit, determination, and iron-clad willpower. That if only we tried harder, wanted it more, and resisted temptation better, we’d crack the code.

 

Nonsense.

 

Behavior is not a battle between good and evil happening inside your skull. Behavior is a transaction between you and your surroundings. And in that transaction, the environment always has the upper hand.

 

Consider this: A study tracking foraging human populations across 300+ locations worldwide found that humans behave remarkably similar to the birds and mammals living in the exact same environment. Whether it’s how we find food, organize socially, or even reproduce—the local environment dictates behavior far more than individual determination or cultural background. If you’re in the African rainforest, you store less food (just like 96% of mammal species around you). If you’re in colder climates, you hoard for winter. The environment writes the script; we just follow stage directions.

 

Now, if environment can override millions of years of human evolution, what chance does your Monday morning motivation stand?

 

The Japanese Know Something We Don’t

 

Walk into any convenience store in Tokyo—a konbini, as locals call it—and you’ll witness environmental design at its most ruthless efficiency.

 

Fresh onigiri at eye level. Hot coffee for ¥100 at the entrance. Fried chicken packaged in bags specifically engineered so you can eat while walking without grease on your hands. The average konbini rotates 100-200 products every single week based on what sells. If something doesn’t move, it vanishes. No second chances.

 

But here’s the kicker: They restock food multiple times a day. Why? Because freshness drives behavior. You’re not buying “a sandwich.” You’re buying “a sandwich made 3 hours ago that tastes better than what you’d make at home.” The environment has removed every friction point between desire and action.

 

Result? Over 55,000 convenience stores across Japan generating ¥11.8 trillion in annual sales. That’s not convenience. That’s environmental manipulation disguised as service.

 

Meanwhile, we’re still telling ourselves we’ll wake up at 5 AM tomorrow because “this time it’s different.”

 

The Supermarket Isn’t Selling You Groceries. It’s Selling You Impulses

 

Dutch researchers created a virtual supermarket to test how “nudges” affect purchasing behavior. They placed healthy foods at eye level, added subtle visual cues, and used strategic lighting.

 

Sales of promoted healthy items increased. Not because people suddenly developed nutritional consciousness. But because the environment made the healthy choice easier than the unhealthy one.

 

Now flip that. When was the last time you went to buy milk and came back without chips, biscuits, or that “on sale” chocolate bar at the checkout counter? The store layout isn’t random. Those chips aren’t at the billing counter by accident. They’re positioned where your willpower is at its lowest—after you’ve already made 27 other decisions about what to buy.

 

Your brain is tired. Your resistance is depleted. And there’s Kurkure, whispering sweet nothings at you. The environment wins. Every single time.

 

The Bengaluru Footpath Paradox

 

In India, we love to talk about behavioral change. “People just don’t follow rules.” “Nobody wants to walk.” “Indians prefer cars.”

 

No. What Indians prefer is not breaking their ankles on broken footpaths that vendors have occupied because urban planning treated pedestrians as an afterthought.

 

Bengaluru, Delhi, Mumbai—our cities are designed for vehicles, not humans. Wide roads, narrow sidewalks, no safe crossings, no continuous walking paths. Then we’re shocked that people prefer Ola over walking.

 

Compare this to Ahmedabad’s BRTS or the heritage streetscape revival on Mumbai’s Dadabhai Naoroji Road. When you design streets with pedestrians in mind—proper signage, lighting, accessible pathways—people walk. Not because they suddenly became virtuous. Because the environment supported the behavior.

 

Change the stage, and the actors will follow the new script.

 

Don’t Swim Upstream

 

There’s a Zen saying: “You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes a day. Unless you’re too busy. Then you should sit for an hour.“

 

Inspiring? Sure. Practical? Absolutely not.

 

If your environment demands chaos, no amount of willpower will deliver calm. If your desk faces the TV, your “focus time” will remain fiction. If your phone buzzes 146 times a day, your deep work won’t materialize through sheer determination.

 

The smarter move? Don’t fight the current. Change the river.

 

Want to read more? Don’t put books on your wishlist. Put them on your pillow.

Want to eat healthier? Don’t stock junk food “for guests.” Guests will survive.

Want to exercise daily? Don’t rely on motivation. Place your running shoes next to your bed.

 

Stop trying to be a better person in a broken environment. Start building a better environment for the person you already are.

 

The Reality Check( I Know It Is Unsolicited)

 

Your gym membership isn’t the problem. The 45-minute commute to get there is.

Your lack of focus isn’t a character flaw. Your open office plan is.

Your inability to save money isn’t about discipline. It’s about Swiggy notifications and one-click checkouts.

 

We overestimate willpower and underestimate the silent, relentless influence of our surroundings. Neuroscience backs this up: The basal ganglia—the part of your brain forming habits—responds automatically to environmental cues. You don’t “decide” to brush your teeth every morning. You just do it because the toothbrush is there, the bathroom is there, and the routine is embedded in your environment.

 

The same mechanism works for everything else. The only question is: Are you designing your environment for the behavior you want, or are you swimming upstream against environmental currents pulling you in the opposite direction?

 

So, What Could We Takeaway? Stuff That You Could Use?

 

1. Audit Your Environment Like a Forensic Investigator Walk through your home, workspace, phone. What’s begging for your attention? What’s creating friction? What’s making bad choices easy and good choices hard? Write it down.

 

2. The 2-Minute Rule (Backwards) Instead of asking “What can I do in 2 minutes?”, ask: “What can I remove in 2 minutes that will save me hours of resisting temptation?” Delete apps. Hide remote controls. Unsubscribe from retail emails.

 

3. Make the Right Thing the Lazy Thing Humans are efficiency machines. We take the path of least resistance. Design your environment so that the easiest choice is the right choice. Meal prep on Sunday so grabbing healthy food is easier than ordering in. Pre-pack your gym bag the night before.

 

4. Change One Thing This Week Not ten. One. Move your phone charger out of the bedroom. Rearrange your desk so distractions are behind you. Place a water bottle where you sit most often. Small environmental tweaks compound into massive behavioral shifts.

 

5. Stop Heroic. Start Strategic. Discipline is overrated. Systems are underrated. You don’t need to be superhuman. You just need to be smart about your surroundings. Olympians don’t train in chaotic environments. Bestselling authors don’t write in noisy cafes (unless that’s their system). Figure out your system, then engineer the environment to support it.

 

Before I sign off, a Final Word

 

Your willpower is finite. Your environment is infinite.

Stop fighting a battle you’ll never win. Change the battlefield instead.

Don’t swim upstream. Reroute the river.

” An object in possession seldom retains the same charm that it had in pursuit.” — Pliny the Younger

 

The Problem Isn’t What You Want. It’s What Happens After You Get It.

 

There’s a strange, almost comical moment in every human life:

 

You chase something with the hunger of a pilgrim. You pray for it, plan around it, pitch it to yourself repeatedly. You finally get it.

 

And then— something inside you quietly whispers… “This? Really?”

 

Welcome to what is defined as hedonic adaptation.

 

It happens in boardrooms, in relationships, in branding campaigns, in entrepreneurship, in careers, in consumption, in spirituality.

 

It’s a universal glitch.

 

Pliny the Younger spotted it 1,900 years ago. We still haven’t updated the firmware.

 

The Pursuit High: A Pleasant Addiction We Don’t Admit To

 

Psychologists call it “reward prediction error.”

Brands call it “the next launch.”

Entrepreneurs call it “once this milestone comes…”

Couples call it “we need a vacation.”

Politicians call it “my next term.”

 

But everywhere, the script is the same: Anticipation > Acquisition.

 

And the world is full of beautifully bizarre stories that prove it.

 

The Twisted Math Of Wanting

 

Here’s what your brain does, and it’s diabolical:

 

During pursuit: Dopamine floods your system. Every product video, every saved link, every mental calculation of “I could afford this if I skip lunch for three months”—it’s all rocket fuel for your pleasure centers.

 

Upon acquisition: Dopamine hits pause. “Cool. Next?”

 

Thirty days later: What sound system?

 

Hedonic adaptation describes how people naturally return to stable happiness levels after positive or negative life events, making initial excitement fade as newness wears off.

 

The scientists have a term for it: the Hedonic Treadmill. You run faster, you stay in the same place, and somehow you’re also paying for premium gym membership.

 

The corporate world figured this out decades ago. Why do you think there will be an iPhone 47? Because the iPhone 46 stopped sparking joy approximately eleven minutes after unboxing.

 

The Rolling Stones’ Lost Guitar

 

Keith Richards of the fabled Rolling Stones once lost his cherished guitar in a hotel. The hunt? Frenzied, desperate. The music, the magic imagined with that guitar? Boundless. When it was finally recovered, Richards said he barely noticed. The pursuit had sculpted a myth, while possession was mundane.

 

The Psychology Behind The Elusive Charm

 

Science backs this phenomenon: The “reward prediction error” theory says we thrive on anticipation. The joy spikes as we get closer to a goal, then crashes upon achievement as the mind recalibrates.

 

Our minds are wired less to possess and more to pursue.

 

The Dopamine Deception: Our Brain On The Hunt

 

Neuroscience has a name for our Roman friend Pliny’s observation: the Dopamine Loop. Contrary to popular belief, dopamine isn’t the pleasure chemical; it’s the anticipation chemical. It’s the biological kick you get from the hunt, the search, the potential of a reward.

The moment you click “buy,” your brain has already celebrated. The possession is just the administrative cleanup. The charm wasn’t in the object; it was in the movie your mind directed, scored, and produced about the object. The reality, no matter how shiny, can never compete with the blockbuster playing in your head.

This isn’t just about consumerism. This is the operating system of our desires—for careers, relationships, status.

 

The Tulip That Bankrupted A Nation( Netherlands, 1637)

 

Imagine a flower bulb so coveted, it was worth a grand Amsterdam canal house. During Tulip Mania, a single Semper Augustus tulip bulb could fetch that price. People sold their businesses, land, and life savings for a piece of paper—a futures contract—for a bulb still in the ground. The pursuit was a national bloodsport. Then, the bubble burst. The bulbs, now physically possessed, were just… bulbs. The charm wasn’t in the flower; it was in the delirious, collective pursuit of unimaginable wealth.

 

The Wake-Up Call: You Are Addicted to Your Own Movie

So, what’s the reality check? Your life is likely a series of completed pursuits, leaving a trail of mildly disappointing possessions and achievements. The promotion came with bureaucracy. The dream car with EMI stress. The perfect partner with… well, reality.

The modern world is a factory designed to exploit this very loop. Swipe, refresh, buy, upgrade. It’s a hamster wheel of desire, and you’re the hamster, thinking you’re on a cosmic journey.

The charm dissipates not because the object is flawed, but because the pursuit—the state of wanting—is where you are most creatively, passionately, and vibrantly engaged.

 

The $40,000 Omelette Nobody Wanted – New York, USA

 

A Manhattan restaurant once introduced a $40,000 omelette (yes, 4-zero-thousand) featuring lobster and rare caviar.

 

People lined up to see it, photograph it, post about it.

 

The restaurant became a sensation.

 

But the sales? A few units a year.

 

It turned out people wanted the idea of experiencing luxury far more than the ownership of eating it. Charm in pursuit.Disinterest in possession.

 

The Case of the Japanese “Rent-a-Family” Industry

 

Japan’s booming “rent-a-family” business (you can literally hire an actor to play a parent, partner or friend for a day) is built entirely on Pliny’s insight:

 

People often find fantasy companionship more emotionally satisfying than real-life relationships, which come with expectations, unpredictability, and complexity. Pursuit is emotionally safe. Possession is emotionally costly.

 

Why the Mind Loves the Chase More Than the Catch

 

1. Possession introduces responsibility.

Desire has no maintenance cost. Ownership does.

 

2. Pursuit is identity-enhancing.

We are what we strive for—not always what we own.

 

3. The brain releases dopamine during anticipation, not arrival.

This is why apps ping you during the waiting phase.
This is why sales funnels are engineered around suspense.
This is why every trailer is more exciting than the movie.

 

4. The novelty arc collapses instantly upon possession.

This is why toddlers toss new toys aside. And why adults chase new phones with toddler-level enthusiasm.

 

A Reality Check for Brands, Leaders & Humans

 

If Pliny’s law is true (and it clearly is),
then the question isn’t:

“How do we help people want our product?”

But:

“How do we help them continue wanting it after they own it?”

 

Most brands, leaders, institutions, couples, creators, and careers fail right here.

 

Retention dies not because value drops—
but because charm drops.

 

Charm is the ultimate renewable resource.
But only if you design for it.

 

Some potential thought sparks

 

Design for the ‘Second Seduction.’

The first purchase wins a customer.
The second desire keeps them.
Create rituals, surprises, personal wins after ownership.

 

Keep a bit of mystery alive.

The worst thing a brand or leader can do:
become predictable.

 

Shift from “What we offer” to “What they continue to experience.”

Charm is experiential, not transactional.

 

Celebrate progress, not possession.

Make the journey feel like the reward.
Gamify growth, not ownership.

 

Build “pursuit loops” into the product or relationship.

Micro-chases.
Mini milestones.
Unfolding chapters.

Humans crave movement more than medals.

 

We chase.
We catch.
We yawn.

 

Then we chase again— because deep inside, we’re wired not for victory,
but for velocity.

 

Pliny merely held up the mirror. We’re the ones who keep looking away.

 

So maybe the trick is simple:
Don’t fall in love with what you want.
Fall in love with what you do with it after you get it.

 

That’s where charm lives.
And where most of the world never looks.