Never Eat Alone Read online

  Setting out to know someone inevitably means understanding what their problems or needs are. At work, it may be their product line. But as you talk with the person, you'll also find out that perhaps their kids are hoping to land an internship, that they themselves have health issues, or they just want to cut strokes off their golf game. The point is, you have to reach beyond the abstract and get to someone as an individual. Find a way to become part of those things that are of most interest to them, and you will have found a way to become part of their life.

  Recently, I took part in a roundtable discussion sponsored by the Milken Institute's Global Conference in Los Angeles, an annual three-day gathering that brings together the world's top thinkers and CEOs to work over global problems. There were fifteen participants, each one an executive of a company far bigger than my own.

  In many settings, I probably wouldn't have been rubbing elbows with them, but because I had helped organize the conference (always an advantage), I was invited to participate.

  The events were planned with a CEO's tight schedule in mind. There was a brief mixer before the event to allow the participants to mingle and get to know one another. Then a panel discussion on the future of marketing, given the challenges facing big brands. Afterward, a short dinner.

  In other words, there was about a three-hour window of opportunity where I could hope to establish a foundation for one or two relationships.

  A successful conference's agenda is always created to maximize the participants' time. My own goal at such conferences is to maximize the brief windows of opportunity I might get to become intimate with other interesting people I haven't met before.

  Food, I find, has a unique ability to facilitate conversation. People are usually open, even eager, to be amused while eating. Meals at conventions, however, are problematic. They're rushed, frenetic affairs that call for gracious, but unobtrusive, small talk. You're never sure where you'll end up sitting. And among strangers, it's usually difficult to focus beyond the people sitting either to your left or right.

  And during the panel, people are focused on their own presentations.

  That left the mixer. During mixers, I like to hang out near the bar. Virtually everyone gets a drink at some point. Throughout the day, I had also scouted out which rooms the people I wanted to meet were holding court in for the day, and arranged my schedule so I could be there as they were walking in or out. It sounds a bit manipulative, but really, it's just putting yourself in the right position at the right time.

  The challenge in such circumstances, as it is in every conversation, is to try to transcend the trivialities of polite chitchat. I had gotten to know the lead organizer of the event during the preceding months, and based on casual conversation I generally knew who was coming—not privileged information but useful in my preparation. My office compiled simple bios of the VIPs who were coming in case I ended up meeting them or sitting next to them. My assistant prepared a few one-pagers on the one or two individuals I especially wanted to meet.

  This is all part of what I call just doing your homework. That alone, however, is not enough. The idea is to find a point of common ground that is deeper and richer than what can be discovered in a serendipitous encounter. Armed with knowledge about a person's passions, needs, or interests, you can do more than connect; you'll have an opportunity to bond and impress.

  A master politician like Winston Churchill planned his public encounters in the same way. Churchill today is known as an oratory genius, master of the art of repartee—the kind of fantastic dinner guest who captures everyone's undivided attention. What is less known—but which Churchill acknowledged in his own writing—is the blood, sweat, and tears of preparation that went into the making of a single sentence or the delivery of a clever joke. Churchill realized the power of knowing his audience and knowing how to push their buttons.

  So how did I do?

  I discovered that one of the CEOs, John Pepper, was also a fellow graduate of Yale. I had admired him since I was an undergrad and had seen him speak on campus. The former CEO of Procter & Gamble, Pepper was committed to human rights and making sure the story of the Underground Railroad was preserved in a museum devoted to the subject he was founding in Cincinnati. Pepper was known for his leadership and the innovations in marketing he had brought to Procter & Gamble. Even now, after stepping down, he continued to be a powerful influence on P&G's board and on the boards of several other companies.

  Knowing he had attended Yale, I knew that he'd have a bio listed on the Yale University Web site. So I tapped into my alumni network for more information. There, I found a treasure trove of old college affiliations and interests. It turned out we had both been in Berkley College at Yale. That meant he must have known Robin Winks, a warmly admired and much-respected professor for whom I had worked while in college. When I brought up our many common experiences, we hit it off.

  By the end of our conversation, John was giving me insightful advice about and contacts for my young company (YaYa at the time). He invited me to keep in touch in the coming years. I hoped our paths would cross many more times over the years, and they certainly have. When Professor Winks—Robin—passed away just a week later, we shared our memories of him. A few months later, I met a successful businessman from Cincinnati who was bragging about the museum enshrining the Underground Railroad and I made a point of putting him in touch with John Pepper for fundraising. I've probably introduced two or three potential donors to John in the last year.

  I had no affiliations or organizations in common with the other CEO I wanted to meet. Luckily, a random Google search revealed that she had run the New York City Marathon the previous year. I know firsthand how much commitment and sacrifice it takes to train day in and day out to run and complete a marathon. I had tried—and failed. I had begun to train for a marathon one year, but my knees started to act up, to my disappointment. By the way, I'm always looking for good advice on how I might someday be able to run a marathon.

  When I ran into this CEO, I said, "You know, I don't know how you do it. I like to think I'm in great shape, but the training for a marathon killed me. I had to stop."

  Of course, she was surprised. "How the heck did you know I ran a marathon?" she happily quipped.

  I never shy away from mentioning the research I've done. "I always make a special effort to inquire about the people I'd like to meet." Inevitably, people are flattered. Wouldn't you be? Instantly, the other person knows that rather than suffering through a strained half hour with a stranger, they're able to connect with someone with whom they share an interest, someone who has gone out of his way to get to know them better.

  As it happened, the day before I had gone through "Barry's Boot Camp," a tough-as-nails but totally exhilarating exercise regimen in West Hollywood, not far from the conference. I said, "If you want an amazing and different workout sometime, you should consider boot camp." In return, I received some welcome advice for extending my running regimen. Later, she tried boot camp with me and loved it.

  To this day, each time she and I meet, we talk about Barry's Boot Camp and I give her my progress report on my goal of running a marathon. And what I have found with those I've converted to my boot camp workout is that when they visit L.A., they might not have time to take a meeting or lunch with others, but they often do make one nonbusiness detour—and we have one hardcore workout together.

  Once again, your goal in such a setting is to transform what could be a forgettable encounter into a blossoming friendship. There are shortcuts in my system, but this isn't one of them. I wouldn't have been able to reach out to these individuals, and truly connect, without doing my homework.

  8. Take Names

  Once you've taken the time to figure out what your mission is and where you want to get to, the next step is to identify the people who can help you get there.

  The successful organization and management of the information that makes connecting flourish is vital. Tracking the people you know, the people
you want to know, and doing all the homework that will help you develop intimate relationships with others can cause one heck of an information overload. How do you manage it? Luckily, today we have a whole new set of software and hardware tools that can help us deal with the task in an orderly fashion.

  But you don't need the latest and greatest gadgets. Ink and paper are a perfectly suitable way to keep track of the new people in your expanding social life. I'm a list-taking madman, and you should become one, too.

  My experience at YaYa is a good example of how lists help people achieve their goals. On my last day at Starwood, I made more than forty phone calls. One of them was to Sandy Climan. What's interesting about the call, and the dozens of others like it I made that day, is that long before any of these people knew me, many of them had been on one of many lists I'd been keeping for years.

  It was Sandy who eventually recruited me to YaYa. It didn't hurt that one of the other investors with a stake in the company, Knowledge Universe, was backed by the famed financier Michael Milken, who ultimately became a mentor of mine whom I'd met through a mutual nonprofit interest.

  In November 2000, the YaYa board named me CEO and handed me two goals: establish a viable business model, and either find a major investor or sell the company to a well-heeled strategic acquirer. At the time, YaYa had the technology to invent online games that corporations could use to attract and educate their customers, but the company had no customers—or revenue.

  First, I sat down and established a ninety-day, one-year, and three-year mission in my Networking Action Plan. Each goal required me to connect with and develop different parts of my network.

  In ninety days, I had to establish credibility with the board, gain the trust of my employees, and set a clear direction for the business.

  In a year, I wanted to have enough blue-chip accounts to be close to profitability and moving toward making the company attractive for potential acquisition. Most important, I had to prove to the outside world that YaYa was producing something worthwhile. The concept of advergaming, which wasn't even a word then, was not considered a viable segment of the advertising market. Interactive ads were hopelessly ineffective, and banner ads on Web sites were now considered an industry joke. We had to differentiate ourselves.

  I wanted a business model in place three years down the road that could function without me, gain liquidity for my investors, and solidify the company's standing as a thought leader in the online marketing arena.

  To make these goals possible, I mapped out the most important players in both the online and games industries, from CEOs and journalists to programmers and academics. My goal was to get to know almost all of them within a year.

  To create excitement around our product, I wrote down a list of people I called "influentials": the early adopters, journalists, and industry analysts that help spread the initial buzz about a product or service. Next, I made a list of potential customers, potential acquirers, and people who might be interested in funding us down the road. (In creating your own categories, each should correspond to your own goals.)

  When you make such lists, it's important you name the actual decision makers, and not just an organization. The point here is to have a readily accessible and specific list of names.

  At the outset, concentrate on the people who are already part of your existing network. I bet you have no idea how vast and widespread it really is. As I noted in the previous chapter, take the time to list people such as:

  Relatives

  Friends of relatives

  All your spouse's relatives and contacts

  Current colleagues

  Members of professional and social organizations

  Current and former customers and clients Parents of your children's friends Neighbors, past and present

  People you went to school with

  People you have worked with in the past People in your religious congregation Former teachers and employers

  People you socialize with

  People who provide services to you

  Next, I enter the gathered names into a database. (I tend to use Microsoft's Outlook, but there are plenty of programs out there that are just as good.) I then create call sheets by region, listing the people I know and those I'd like to know. When I'm in a given town, I'll try to phone as many people as I can. I have the numbers in my Palm and BlackBerry; both devices have unique and important functionality to me, so I've kept both.

  I also print out and carry these lists around with me wherever I go. They focus my efforts in cabs between meetings. I have something palpable to encourage me to reach out. Some of the lists you create will be related to your action plans; others are more general, helping you to stay connected. The way you organize your lists can be fluid. I have lists by geographical location, by industry, by activity (other runners, for instance, or people who like to go out on the town), whether they're an acquaintance or friend, and so on.

  Adding to the names on your lists is simply a matter of looking in the right place. In the beginning stages at YaYa, I read all the trade magazines having to do with advertising and games. If I read about someone who fell into one of my categories, I'd put him on a list and find out his contact information.

  When you're looking for people to reach out to, you'll find them everywhere. One great resource for making lists is—it almost sounds absurd—other people's lists. Newspapers and magazines do rankings of this sort all the time.

  Long before I became one of CrairCs "40 Under 40," for example, I had been ripping out that list for years. I clip out lists of top CEOs, most admired marketers, the nation's most progressive entrepreneurs—all of these kinds of lists are published in local and national publications; every industry has something similar.

  You want not only to know who the players in your field are but eventually to be recognized as one of those players. The people who are on Crain's "40 Under 40" aren't necessarily the forty best businesspeople. They are, however, probably the forty most connected. And they probably all have lunched with one another at one time or another. When you get to know these people, and the people they know (including the journalists at Crain's responsible for the "40 Under 40"), you're that much more likely to be on the list yourself the next time it appears.

  There's another category you might want to add, something I call my "aspirational contacts." There are those extremely highlevel people who have nothing to do with my business at hand but are just, well, interesting or successful or both. The people on that list maybe anyone from heads of state and media moguls, to artists and actors, to people others speak highly of. I list these people, too.

  If you could see my Palm, I could show you the contact information for Richard Branson, chairman of the Virgin empire. Now, I don't know Richard Branson . . . yet. But I want to. If you scroll down a bit farther, you'll find Howard Stringer, CEO of Sony Corp. of America. He was on my aspirational list once. I now know Howard.

  People get a chuckle out of this, but the results speak for themselves.

  Remember, if you're organized, focused, and a stickler for taking names, there's no one that's out of reach.

  As for me, my three years at YaYa came to a close. In 2002,

  Forbes magazine reported on our extraordinary rise to success as a start-up that had come from nowhere with a totally new concept. The concept of advergaming gained a cultural currency in the marketplace, and the term is now used by CEOs and journalists alike. The other day I overheard a CEO, who didn't know we had created the word, bragging about the innovative tool called "advergaming" that had led to a measurable increase in the sales and recognition of his product. As planned, YaYa was ultimately sold to a public company, giving investors access to the liquid currency they were looking for and giving YaYa the operating capital it needed. And it's clear that without that bunch of lists to thank, YaYa would never have made it beyond the first year of operations.

  9. Warming the Cold Call

  Cold calls turn even the mos
t competent of souls into neurotic messes. I can relate to those who go catatonic at the very idea of calling a stranger.

  So how do you manage a cold call?

  First, it's all about attitude. Your attitude. You're never going to be completely ready to meet new people; there is no perfect moment. Your fears will never be completely quieted, because inviting rejection is never going to be appealing. There are always a hundred reasons to procrastinate. The trick is to just plunge right in. Remember, if you don't believe you are going to get what you want from the call, you probably won't. So, in the words of Caddy Shack, "Be the ball." You have to envision yourself winning to win.

  You have to view getting to know new people as a challenge and an opportunity. The very idea should spark your competitive fires, silencing the wallflower in all of us that shies away from socially adventuresome behavior.

  And second, cold calls are for suckers. I don't call cold—ever. I've created strategies that ensure every call I make is a warm one.

  Let me give you an example. Jeff Arnold, founder of WebMD, is a friend. He had recently bought out the rights and patents for a technology that puts digital content on a miniature DVD disk for a unique delivery. One use for this technology is placing these small disks on the lids of fountain beverages. Picture getting a soda from McDonald's; on the top of your drink is a small diskette containing games, music, and/or videos. With 20 billion or so fountain beverages sold each year, this is a compelling new form to get digital content into American hands.

  In talking with Jeff and his partner, Thomas lull, I was told about the deal they had just closed with a movie theater company to distribute their DVDs on beverages sold at theaters. Jeff and Thomas thought that, given the demographics of moviegoers, a company like Sony Electronics could stand to benefit from this new distribution technology. But they didn't know whom to contact at Sony and came to me for thoughts.