(I should have called this “Part IV,” since it’s being written several months later, but a few things have happened at work since then)
My previous installment on Bulldust-adjacency didn’t accomplish much, except to establish a blinding flash of the obvious about consulting work, which is that far too much of it runs to low-effort topics and smells of bulldust. But just because that’s true doesn’t mean it’s worthless. I was at a networking event the other day, and this topic finally clicked into focus for me. I was tired. I wasn’t really having a great time. I went through the motions but felt like I was wasting my time at this event. On the drive back I remembered a key thought: I’ve attended countless events like this. I have perhaps met only five people at all those events who truly changed my life for the better. But those five people, who led me to those five situations or so, have made all the difference in my career.
I talk about consulting perhaps too much, almost as if I experienced a deep financial shock once when I tried to support myself with it, so let’s give a few other examples of when bulldust-adjacency doesn’t mean you should throw up your hands and run in the other direction:
- Buying (or
evenespecially renting/leasing)a high value item like a home or a car often involves a great deal of bulldust. But most of us can’t avoid dealing with that from time to time. - Marketing efforts often smell of bulldust. The fact is, we’re not entirely rational creatures. You can market products based on sheer engineering superiority, or you can mix in a few appeals to be more attractive, lose weight, regrow hair, make more money, etc. I live in Huntsville Alabama where two out of three of the people I know are some kind of engineer (I’ve gotten to where I just ask “what kind of engineer are you?”, and the billboards here aren’t really that different.
- Networking with people – joining groups like chambers of commerce, BNI, Rotary, etc., especially for the purpose of growing your brand.
- Sometimes providing a realistic entry point for a difficult skill requires a strategic pinch of bulldust. This may seem obscure, so to be specific – beginner band or orchestra. Your first tennis lesson. Your kid’s soccer team. All the praise your director or coach, or your kid’s director or coach, was giving out? Sorry, that wasn’t stardust getting in your eyes.
Kind of a mixed set of examples, in that it covers situations where you need something but the smell is in the air, and your opposite number is in fact engaging in it, along with situations where the common practices include or at least expect it. I would submit, however, that we can still avoid some of it, and avoid making it worse. So here’s a mixed bag of questions to ask and advice.
Does the task need doing?
The time will come when my beloved 2015 Toyota Camry (one or both of them) will finally blow a motor, or the transmission will start slipping, and the repair estimate will indicate that it’s time for it to be towed to a farm upstate. When that sad day occurs, I’ll probably have to talk to a person who sells cars, unless I can find one from an individual. And let’s not kid ourselves: individuals who sell cars can be tricksters too.
I will then have to sit and chat about payments, upsells, VIN etching, and wade through a great deal of bulldust. When I am in these kind of situations I find it extremely difficult to avoid giving it back in kind, because I am very influenced by my environment. So I would prefer to avoid this environment. But I do need a car.
What I don’t really need: timeshares. Country club memberships. Bespoke suits. Whatever that guy at Costco is selling (I don’t know because I won’t make eye contact). Watches that cost more than my Camry. I realize that many of the things I’ve listed here sound like luxury goods. I have nothing against luxury. But I’m finding more and more that certain goods and services just tend to be sold more with the bulldust approach than others, and that makes me question more and more whether I need them. Simple question: why is does the thing I’m buying require a high pressure approach?
Am I making it worse?
Adjacent to that last point – I can be in an activity where a certain amount of bulldust seems inevitable (BNI and the Chamber, both of which I joined last week) keeps coming to mind), and yet avoid making it worse. I can be honest with others, even if I suspect they’re not always totally honest with me. I can present things clearly and dispassionately. One of my recurring phrases is “In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king,” and I believe that you kind of stand out if you’re not exaggerating, if you are telling both the good and bad about alternatives you present, and if you appear to have other people’s interests at heart.
Am I presenting the truth strategically, or just lying?
Again, this is tied to the last point pretty closely. But you can be strategic, diplomatic, or however you want to call it, without materially lying. In the beginner band or sports example, it’s not wrong to tell beginners they’re doing great. They are doing great, for a beginner. Or maybe they’re exactly average, or lagging a bit. But you don’t have to say all that. (and never add “for a beginner,” either, when speaking to a beginner. Even a ten-year-old is insulted by that.)
Constructively presenting something truthful: telling someone they’re doing a good job. Telling them they have potential.
Throwing bulldust: telling someone they are destined to be the best. Encouraging unrealistic dreams (that usually involve drum corps or travel ball fees) about scholarships or professional futures.
Most of us can see through this when it comes to kids and their beginner activities. But it happens in business too, and headlines like “rank at the top of Google results” and “become a millionaire by working four hours a week” tend to grab more attention than “systematically increase your online profile through hard work” and “you could have a better business by making some incremental changes.”