The Practitioner's Guide To Product Management - Jock Busuttil
The Practitioner's Guide To Product Management - Jock Busuttil
Plummeting tail-first into cloud cover (where I shouldn’t have been) at the controls of a
Bulldog T1 trainer aircraft, a few thousand feet above Royal Air Force Mildenhall’s
military air traffic zone (where I definitely shouldn’t have been), I realized three things:
It’s common for studies to have three or four redundant data gathering methods.
Some of those data gathering methods will be qualitative and some will be
quantitative. We have a pretty badass analytics team that’s gonna give us trends
and insights and show us things happening on the mobile builds that we
wouldn’t get out of qualitative testing. And then a lot of times, we’ll go
investigate with the qualitative stuff.9
This is one way in which the role of the product manager is so important: in
balancing the hard and soft sides—or left-brain versus right-brain factors—in developing
and launching products. Data analytics can be a siren call luring a company away from
listening in a more qualitative way to its market, neglecting human measures such as
satisfaction and enjoyment. As Aaron Levenstein, professor emeritus of Baruch College,
delightfully put it, “Statistics are like bikinis. What they reveal is suggestive, but what
they conceal is vital.”
Which is why the right-brain interpretive and creative skills are still so important to
the job. Replacing all direct market contact with pure data analytics just doesn’t present
the full picture. Despite having around one billion users worldwide10 on whom to run
multivariate tests,11 even Facebook cannot rely on data analytics alone—it still needs to
engage with and listen to its market.
OWNERSHIP AND VISION
A product manager’s role is to own and be ultimately responsible for one or more product
lines. And that means really own. To say that the buck stops with the product manager is
an understatement. A true product manager will go and find the buck that’s buried on
someone’s desk. But to be effectual, this ownership must come with the authority to make
the decisions needed to steer the product to success. With their combination of extensive
market understanding, intuition, and creativity, product managers are the people who can
see a new opportunity emerging; visualize the product needed to take advantage of that
opportunity; then enthuse, corral, and provide the necessary detail to the various
specialists they work with in order to bring the product to life. Sometimes that new
opportunity arises unexpectedly from the development of another product, as the scientists
at Pfizer found with their new drug, sildenafil citrate. Although it was originally designed
to lower blood pressure and treat angina, early clinical trials showed that the intended
improvement in blood flow caused by sildenafil also happened to cause male erections.
The drug is now better known as Viagra. But more often the product manager must
recognize that the market has moved on,12 so the product in turn must change or be killed
off.
A product manager’s role is essentially about providing three things: context,
perspective, and vision. The context is a portrait of the real people in the market who have
a particular problem or need, and describes the environment in which they experience it.
That might be when they’re out walking their dog, working at their office, or driving in
their car. Perspective provides an honest appraisal of how effectively the organization and
its product are going about solving those problems. Possibly most important, vision is
used to motivate and align everyone involved in creating a product by describing the
product’s potential.
Without strong product management, the vision can often be corrupted by
organizations for a few common reasons.
They’ve Stopped Empathizing
People at a company that’s focused on maximizing its revenues, profits, and share price to
the exclusion of all else have probably ceased to care about their customers. They’ve
become inwardly focused, forgotten about the outside world, and are more concerned with
solving their own internal, corporate problems rather than those of their target market.
They’ve Forgotten the Real-World Benefits of Their Products
If a company’s forgotten how to empathize with its customers, it’s probably also in the
dark about the real-world benefits its product brings to people’s lives. Like how Jeff
doesn’t tear his hair out every time he uses the accounting system. Or how Clarissa, who’s
lost all her wedding photos because of a broken hard drive, discovers they’ve been
automatically backed up to the cloud without her realizing it.
They’ve Stopped Dreaming
People don’t dream of being given coupons in the supermarket, or finding a convenient
parking space, or washing the dishes; they dream of going into space, or getting a job as
chief taster in a chocolate factory, or discovering a new exotic particle. A product vision
should be dreamlike in the sense that it has to be worthy of chasing so that people can
anticipate their future sense of achievement and use that feeling as motivation to fight for
it. It has to matter.13 Dharmesh Raithatha, once a senior product manager at Mind Candy,
the company responsible for Moshi Monsters, described how Mind Candy repeatedly
evolved its product vision to ensure it was always just out of reach.14 Your product vision
must be a shining goal, a guiding star that everyone in the organization can visualize, so
they become passionate about it and align themselves with it.
Organizations that create a mundane vision—“We want to be the dominant player in
the blah blah blah market”—fail to motivate their workforces. With an uninspiring vision,
dysfunction will seep in as self-motivated departments, teams, and individuals reject the
vision and create their own guiding star to follow instead. In organizations without strong
product management it is much harder to achieve alignment to a common goal because
there is no single and consistent voice evangelizing the product vision, reminding
everyone that they come to work each day to make the lives of people like Jeff and
Clarissa just a little bit better.
A PROFESSION IN FLUX
Though the fundamental purpose of product management is widely agreed upon, you will
inevitably encounter several competing but intersecting schools of thought on the role and
its responsibilities. One view is that a product manager should be involved only in the
identification of market opportunities (the “problem space”) and in no way with
addressing that opportunity (the “solution space”); another view holds that the product
manager must be responsible for defining both the problem and solution spaces. Google
and other technology-led Silicon Valley giants will only accept candidates for the role of
product manager if they have a computer science degree; other companies value and seek
breadth of experience, irrespective of what the candidate happened to major in. These
competing views and methodologies are frequent topics of heated debate within the
product management community.15 To a newcomer, however, they must be positively
perplexing and perhaps a little off-putting—how on earth are you meant to understand
your role if the practitioners themselves don’t agree on what’s involved? So to keep things
simple, the true crux of the job, no matter how it’s defined and what responsibilities you’re
given, is to focus on the users. They’re the ones with the problem you’re trying to solve.
Everything else is secondary.
What I would not recommend, as you learn about product management, is to adhere
slavishly to the precepts and principles of any one particular framework or methodology.
Use the Japanese principle of kaizen—continual improvement—and apply it to both your
products and yourself.16 Try techniques out, keep what works, discard what doesn’t.
Product management frameworks are a dime a dozen, and every company wants you to
buy into its mindset and ecosystem of blogs, training, and books. The constant pressure on
product managers to align themselves into factions citing the Silicon Valley, Lean, Google,
or another approach as the One True Path is divisive nonsense. I’ve yet to encounter an
organization that does product management in precisely the same way as another. In fact, I
expect (and encourage) companies to tailor product management to suit their market,
products, maturity, and culture. What won’t vary from place to place is that you should
always be focused on the needs of your users and that you’ll need to collaborate with the
specialists across all the departments in your company to bring your product vision to life.
If you’re working in a startup as a product manager, the job will be even more
variable. You’ll be expected to roll up your sleeves and do a much broader variety of jobs.
When I worked at a startup called Zeus Technology, I fulfilled roles ranging from trainer
to IT manager to product marketer, all at the same time.
With the burgeoning demand, you’d think there would be more university courses,
and even degrees, in the field. A handful of universities and business schools are in fact
now offering degrees specifically in product management,17 and a good MBA course will
teach you many of the skills needed to become a product manager, though in my view
these programs can be too biased toward business theory rather than a more practical
approach balanced across the three rings. A plethora of professional organizations
worldwide offer product management training and certification. However, not all courses
are equal, and without a standard benchmark for qualification, you have to be extra
diligent when assessing the merits of the course you’re considering. Also, the fact is that
product management is really a learning-by-doing job. So two tips: first, try to be taught
by active product managers rather than those who gave up client work years ago; and
second, choose instructors who have experience in the kinds of companies in which you
would like to work.
I don’t think the dearth of undergraduate or postgraduate courses in the theory of
product management is necessarily a hindrance to those on their journey into the field.
Having a range of educational, social, and work experience, whether in or outside of
technology, will give you the benefit of a broader perspective as well as diverse creative
and technical skills such as communication, design, organization, and structured and
lateral thinking. All these will better equip you to swap hats with ease between the
different roles required of product managers.
The product people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting over the years have made their
way into product management from wildly diverse backgrounds. Alison started out in UX
but was frustrated by “crappy product decisions” by “the business” and set out to see if
she could do better as a product manager, while simultaneously mounting a personal
crusade against people who use terms like “the business.” A senior software engineer
called Pritesh told me he felt there was too great a divide between him and the users. He
wanted to spend more time understanding how people were actually using his product and
start building products that solved problems for real people. It was at this point that he
discovered the role of product manager. Tom, with whom I worked for many years, started
a company straight out of college, sold it, then discovered that being a product manager
was closest to what he’d enjoyed doing as an entrepreneur, albeit with a more predictable
salary. Then there are others who turned up to work one day to find that their job title had
changed without warning to product manager and were just expected to figure it out
themselves. So don’t be dissuaded from starting your journey into the profession because
you feel you don’t have the right background; we all have experience that can be highly
valuable. Your product experience is, after all, the product of your experiences. There’s no
such thing as a conventional route into product management—take my own story as a case
in point.
FROM PLANES TO PRODUCTS
Ever since reading Roald Dahl’s Going Solo when I was young, I had dreamed of
becoming a Royal Air Force pilot, so that flawed stall turn over the English countryside
was a real moment of truth for me.
On the birthday of Apollo, the Greek sun god, devotees would make the arduous
pilgrimage to his temple at Delphi, high on the slopes of Mount Parnassus above the
Corinthian Gulf. The following inscription adorned the ancient stone walls that greeted
them:
“KNOW THYSELF” was an old maxim, ancient even to the visitors of the sixth century
BCE. An oracle at the temple presaged the future through the interpreted ravings of the
Pythia, the oracle’s priestess and mortal mouthpiece. Kings, philosophers, and ordinary
folk alike consulted the oracle for guidance, and in turn received the kind of ambiguous
prophecy that might have made them think about asking for a refund of their votive
offerings. Herodotus, a historian (and occasional teller of tall tales) living in the fifth
century BCE, told of how King Croesus of Lydia (he of the famed wealth) had tested out
various oracles to see which was the most accurate in prophesying and settled on the
oracle at Delphi. Croesus later asked the oracle whether his army should check the
advance of the strengthening Persian Empire into his country. He received the response,
“If Croesus goes to war he will destroy a great empire.” Satisfied, off he went to engage
the Persians, only to be roundly defeated. The great empire he destroyed was, in the end,
his own. One might wonder whether the dictum to know thyself was a warning about the
dangers of failing to challenge our assumptions.
It would be wonderful if we knew ourselves sufficiently well not only to understand
the assumptions we may be making, but to fully and clearly articulate our thoughts and
needs. It would eliminate many misunderstandings we have with friends, family, and
colleagues, and would obviate the reading between the lines and educated guessing that
product managers must do so much of. One of the most important roles of the product
manager is to understand people’s compelling needs for products, but the trouble is that
people rarely know their own minds well enough to distinguish between their fundamental
needs and distracting desires.
In our consumer culture, we’re bombarded with advertising and marketing messages
that induce us to believe we will be fitter, happier, more productive, and ultimately more
complete if only we take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime offer of a steam-cleaning
mop with three free replacement heads and an attachment for bringing a shine to horses’
hooves (not available in stores). We don’t need this crap, but the psychology of the ads
compels us to believe we want it and must have it immediately. When we actually
encounter a product or technology that genuinely enriches our lives, we don’t realize how
much we needed it until after we’ve seen it. We’re often not aware we have a problem
until we’ve been shown how to solve it. The ability to spot these occluded problems is
another of the product manager’s most important skills.
To return for a moment to the ancient Greeks, we can take a page from the teachings
of Socrates, famous for his method of questioning. Socrates was having nothing of the
Oracle of Delphi’s pronouncements. When a friend of his, Chaerephon, asked the oracle
whether there was anyone wiser than Socrates, he received the answer that there was no
one wiser. Socrates, fully believing himself to know nothing, felt this simply could not be
the case and so embarked on a quest to interview various experts about their chosen
specialized subjects. If Socrates had conducted his investigations in the twenty-first
century, one of the questions he might have sought an expert answer to is, what makes a
good product? Is it beautiful, sleek design? How about the number of things it can do? Or
maybe it’s how well it does its job. Certainly these considerations play a part, but
experience teaches us that there’s one crucial characteristic that’s often overlooked,
without which a product will almost always fail: the product has to be needed.
THE HUNDRED-MILLION-DOLLAR ASSUMPTION
In January 2001, as the dot-com bubble was deflating,* journalist Steve Kemper woke up
one day to find that he’d indirectly caused a feeding frenzy of speculation and rumor
among the tech community. He discovered that someone had leaked the proposal for his
next book to the (now defunct) website Inside.com. The book’s synopsis told of how
Kemper had shadowed the successful but eccentric inventor Dean Kamen on his journey
to bring a world-changing innovation, referred to only by its codename, “Ginger,” from
the drawing board through funding and development to its launch. While the leaked
proposal didn’t reveal what Ginger was, tantalizingly it did include quotes from industry
moguls such as Steve Jobs (“As big a deal as the PC”—in retrospect, a beautifully double-
edged comment) and John Doerr, the venture capitalist behind Netscape and Amazon
(“Maybe bigger than the Internet”). Spurred on, the tech world soon dug up the patents
Kamen had filed for Ginger entitled “Personal Mobility Vehicles and Methods.”1 With the
dot-com bonfire of the vanities already burning well out of control, each revelation simply
tossed on more fuel, triggering an explosion of speculation throughout the tech community
about Ginger—including that it was a perpetual-motion engine or a Star Trek– style
transporter that would beam people from place to place in the blink of an eye.2
Early in December 2001, after nearly a year of rampant speculation, the day of
Ginger’s unveiling dawned. In a world exclusive, ABC News’ copresenters of Good
Morning America would finally answer the tech community’s burning question: what on
earth was Ginger? As Kemper wrote later in his book, Reinventing the Wheel,
[Diane] Sawyer had been silent, staring at Ginger. “I’m tempted to say, ‘That’s
it?’ ” she blurted. “But that can’t be it.”
She didn’t understand what she was looking at. She couldn’t see the 90
percent of Ginger’s story hidden below the surface, and didn’t know about the
intense, ragged process that had moved this invention from idea to marketplace.4
Sure, there was the odd glitch to iron out, such as its propensity to throw its riders
roughly to the ground when its battery ran out of juice. President George W. Bush deftly
demonstrated the effect by falling over the handlebars while attempting a vacation
excursion.
This didn’t mean the Segway’s design was fundamentally flawed. That could be
fixed. The bigger problem had to do with Sawyer’s underwhelmed “That’s it?” reaction.
Many other people had the same first impression. Segway simply couldn’t live up to
Ginger’s hype.
But the misfire was rooted in much deeper causes than the buildup. Perhaps Kamen
should have sought the advice of one of Doerr’s other investment recipients, the cofounder
of Netscape, Marc Andreessen: “In a great market—a market with lots of real potential
customers—the market pulls product out of the startup … the #1 company-killer is lack of
market.”5
» Is it pervasive? Who specifically has the problem, and does it affect lots of
people?
» Is it urgent? Do those people need the problem to be solved right away, or
can they wait?
Are there real customers in the market gap you’ve spotted? (Image concept courtesy of
General Assembly)
» Is it complex? Are they able to solve the problem for themselves, or can
someone else solve it for them?
» Is it valuable? How painful is the problem for them, and would they be
willing to part with hard cash to solve it?
» Is it profitable? Will it cost us more or less than the value of the problem to
solve it?
You’ve got to be working to figure out whether there are real people in the identified
market segment who will truly see the value of the product—and whether there are
enough of them. The ideal is to identify a pervasive problem, one that affects an entire
market segment. If you’re seeing that the problem you’re trying to solve affects only some
of the market you’re looking at, it may well be that you haven’t segmented the market
enough, meaning you haven’t noted some differences between groups of people in the
market, maybe between people of different ages or different degrees of comfort with new
technology. You need to start channeling your inner Sherlock Holmes and analyze how
people with the problem are different from those without it.
Segmenting the target market in this way may mean that you end up with a very
small niche, which may not necessarily be a bad thing. A narrower focus can be a plus,
especially for a startup. If you can fully understand the dynamics of the whole market
segment most likely to buy your product, you stand a much better chance of succeeding in
it. From the beachhead you establish there, you can then start to branch out and target
adjacent markets. It is far better to have a few thousand enthused customers than a
hundred thousand indifferent ones. But you may also discover that your market
opportunity is so specific that you’ll only ever have a handful of customers—or sometimes
even just one.
The Large Hadron Collider at CERN is a gargantuan, subterranean, doughnut-shaped
proton smasher that has been used to prove the existence of the elusive Higgs boson,
among other things. The LHC has around it ninety superconductive magnets chilled to
close to absolute zero that it uses to accelerate two beams of particles to near light speed11
in opposite directions within its torus shape. Even though the subatomic particles flying
around the loop have minuscule mass, they’re traveling so fast that the collision between
the two particle beams is like two passenger trains, each moving at 95 mph (or around 150
kph),12 hitting each other head-on—a lot of smashing will occur. When a catastrophic leak
of supercooled helium occurred ten days after initial switch-on in September 2008, the
ultrafast particle beams broke free of their magnetic constraints (like speeding trains on
the loose) and severely damaged the LHC.* Many of its ninety magnets had to be replaced
over the course of the following year.13 CERN now keeps a full replacement set in case
something similar happens again. If you were the product manager at the company
manufacturing those specialized superconductive magnets, your entire market would be
that one customer.
That might be fine with a high-ticket item like those magnets, but if your product
isn’t sufficiently high-value that you’ll turn a profit even with just a few customers, you
should reevaluate whether you’re being too specific with the problem you’re solving, and
even whether it’s worth trying to solve the problem in the first place.
It must be said that those who have come up with the product idea may not be
overwhelmed with joy in response to your feedback. Especially when advising startups,
don’t be surprised if founders react defensively. After all, the product they envision is their
baby. But just keep in mind that the massive favor you’re doing them is to give them the
greatest chance of success and thus to reduce the amount of their limited funding that will
go up in smoke for no return.
DOES THE CONSUMER HAVE A MOTIVATION TO BUY?
As the Segway demonstrated so deftly, product ideas often fall down because their
developers fail to assess whether customers will be sufficiently motivated to actually use
the product. Many product creators I’ve spoken with confuse the means with the end.
They think people will want to use the product just because it exists. “We’re going to
create a new marketplace for exchanging services,” they’ll say. “Once we have a few
hundred users we’ll be able to use their subscription fees to fund further growth and
services.”
The flaw here is thinking that users will turn up and use the marketplace just because
the creators built it. Or made it social. Or gamified it. Sadly, this is not Field of Dreams
and they’re not Kevin Costner. If you build it, the users will not come—unless they have a
strong motivation to do so. The problem you’re solving has to be sufficiently painful,
urgent, and difficult to solve by some other means for the potential customers you’ve
identified to buy. You must be tough-minded in asking yourself, What’s in it for them?
The danger of operating by wish fulfillment is especially prevalent among startups.
One startup I came across was proposing a marketplace for woodworkers to connect with
a larger potential customer base of people needing home improvement work, such as help
assembling a flat-pack kitchen. The reasoning went that woodworkers would prefer to
have a steady stream of jobs set up for them, rather than having to waste time on the phone
talking to customers about jobs and selling their services. Think Uber, but for carpentry.
Using this as an example, let’s work through our questions:
Who specifically has the problem, and does it affect many people? The premise is that
woodworkers have the problems of wanting a steadier stream of work and not wanting to
have to waste time on the phone with customers. We can see that the problem affects many
woodworkers (or is pervasive), because many of them have no web presence or
advertising in the yellow pages.
There are already a few implicit assumptions being made here—did you spot them?
Firstly, do woodworkers actually want a steadier stream of work? They may be perfectly
happy with the current situation. Similarly, they may not consider the time on the phone to
be a waste, as it may give them an opportunity to assess the customer’s needs, ask
questions, and make a good first impression. Also, is it necessarily the case that
woodworkers without a web presence or advertising in the yellow pages receive less
business than they want? They could be receiving work through word-of-mouth referral or
by smartly targeting people who may need to have some fix-ups done, such as those
putting their homes on the market.
Do they need this problem to be solved right away, or can they wait? It’s not that
urgent. Woodworkers have been perfectly able to find business up until now without this
new web marketplace, so in the absence of any major market-changing event, they can
probably hang on for a bit longer.
Are they able to solve the problem for themselves, or can someone else solve it for
them? An individual woodworker can be in only one place at a time, so he needs only
enough work to keep him busy and doesn’t necessarily need to target too wide an area.
He’s able to advertise his services in a relatively cheap and direct manner through letter
drops, ads in local shops, and so on. There are also websites that allow customers to
recommend handymen to others. So it seems that there are already workable alternative
solutions to the problem that do the job well enough.
How painful is the problem for them, and would they be willing to part with hard
cash to solve it? The problem doesn’t seem to be painful enough for the woodworkers. As
a result, it’s unlikely they would part with much cash, unless they happened to be failing
to find enough work and the product really could guarantee them a steady stream of jobs.
But perhaps there’s a segment who are really struggling with the problem, and maybe that
segment represents a sufficient market. How could you find out for sure?
Will it cost more or less than the value of the problem to solve it? You will be charging
a fee for the service, and the question is, how much will customers be willing to pay? That
depends in part on the costs versus the benefits. The subscription fee each woodworker
pays must make the company some profit over the cost of servicing the account. If the fee
is too low, every new subscriber will result in a net loss. If it’s too high, the woodworkers
won’t see sufficient advantage in paying for it.
Pricing is one of the trickiest things to get right about a new product, for many
reasons. Often the price you’d like to charge is simply more than most customers are
willing to pay. While I was working at Iron Mountain, the pricing of one of the company’s
products was insufficient to generate a viable margin of profit. The product in question
was a service that continuously backed up consumers’ laptops to storage servers in the
cloud. The profit margin on the service was tight even according to the business plan, and
the profit was contingent on the service compressing the customers’ files before they were
archived. For some reason, however, this wasn’t happening. So the slim margin was eaten
up by the company’s larger-than-expected storage costs. The growing “success” of the
product translated into increasing loss. It should come as no surprise that Iron Mountain
eventually sold off their digital archival division to Autonomy14 in order to refocus on
their physical storage services.
Pricing a product deserves a book in its own right, so a few short lines here will not
do the topic justice. Finding the right price points for your product relies on having a great
depth of understanding about its context: its potential customers and their expectations, its
fixed and variable costs, its competitors, the life cycle stage of the product and its market,
perhaps even the product’s relative standing within a larger portfolio, as well as many
other considerations. A product manager is uniquely placed to weigh up these different
factors—he is one of the few people in a company whose job it is to have such a detailed
knowledge. There are also many different pricing strategies, some of which are more
applicable to certain industries than others. You wouldn’t expect to pay by the minute to
read a book, nor would you expect to pay more for a subway ticket because you happened
to have the train car to yourself. For more detail on the variety of pricing strategies
available to you, the psychology behind them, and their application, take a look at the
comprehensive list I’ve included for you in the notes.15
One of the reasons people often find product pricing so hard is that they’re struggling
to establish the product’s value to its customers. This is why it’s so important to
understand how painful and how urgent the problem is. In the classes I teach, I illustrate
the point by picking up a student’s half-finished bottle of water. I turn to another student
and ask how much she’d pay me for it. Not unreasonably, the answer is “Nothing.” Fair
enough, I say. I then ask her to imagine she’s been trekking across the expanse of the
Sahara desert with the relentless sun beating down on her. It’s been several hours since she
ran out of water and her tongue is dry and swollen. Like a product manager genie, I
present to her the same secondhand bottle of water, now magically transformed into a life
saver. How much would she pay me for it now? “Everything I have” is the typical
response. If you can time your request for payment to the point when your customer
recognizes the value of your product most, you’ll find people are far more willing to part
with their hard-earned cash.
WANTS VERSUS NEEDS
Most of us are pretty good at recognizing our needs—but often only with the benefit of
hindsight: a sudden downpour makes me wish I’d brought my umbrella; ominous clicking
noises from my laptop’s hard drive remind me that I really need to start backing up my
work. It’s vital never to make assumptions about customers’ needs and whether they will
recognize them. It was nearly fifty years after the invention of the tin can that someone
invented the can opener. One issue is that our needs are often latent or unexpressed. We
may experience a need as a yawning gap in our lives that wears on us but that we haven’t
clearly identified, such as the desire to do a good job, be successful, or know we’re on the
right track with something.
Abraham Maslow famously wrote about people having a hierarchy of needs, starting
with those required for basic physiological health, such as breathing, food, and water;
progressing to needs for love and for satisfaction in our lives; and moving on to “self-
actualization,” which can be achieved, for example, through exercising our creativity and
problem-solving skills. Our survival needs are obvious, but needs that relate more to the
quality of our lives are easier to neglect or sublimate.
It can also be easy to confuse wants with needs. I may want that second slice of
baked cheesecake, but my spreading girth will attest to the fact that I certainly don’t need
it. Wants are not the same as needs, but we often mistake them as such. This is why it’s
sometimes difficult to read between the lines of the explicit wants expressed by your
potential customers in order to latch on to their actual needs, which may be implicit ones
they’re not themselves aware of.
We can all get caught up in thinking some cool new product will serve needs we
don’t have. I was having trouble getting my modestly sized car into my snugly
proportioned garage. As a creative (and slightly geeky) product manager, I thought for a
while that I could perhaps craft some kind of complex parking sensor and camera array
that would help me park more easily. Of course what I really needed was either a smaller
car or a bigger garage, or to learn how to reverse-park better.
We’re all inclined to think we need things we want—until, that is, we’re asked to pay
for them. Then we suddenly don’t want them anymore. So learning to delve more deeply
into the problems people truly need to solve and why (whether or not they understand the
need yet), rather than putting too much emphasis on what they might say they want, is an
important skill for a product manager to develop. This is why we need to know our
customers’ needs better than they know them themselves.
IS THE PRODUCT OFFERING A REAL-WORLD BENEFIT?
As with wants and needs, people also seem to find it hard to spot the difference between a
feature and a benefit. So many product descriptions and marketing pitches demonstrate
this when they focus primarily on the product features and perhaps mention a benefit right
at the end. Have you ever had the misfortune to be accosted by a telesales person whose
entire selling technique consisted of listing all the things the product could do, how many
buttons and accessories it had, and how capacious its memory was? There’s a reason why
this pitch fell flat: features don’t resonate with the buyer, only benefits do. A better
approach would have been for the telesales person to describe what real-world, emotional
impact the product would have on you.
(Courtesy of Dreamstime.com)
Occasionally, a product stands out because its benefits are expressed well and
resonate with the potential buyer. As a biker, I regularly find myself in stores that sell
motorcycle gear. There’s a brand called Knox that makes safety armor, the padded inserts
that protect knees, shoulders, and elbows when motorcycle and rider part company
unexpectedly. I was browsing a motorcycle store one day and came across Knox’s
products. In the midst of their display was a life-sized cardboard model of a human spine,
with arrows pointing to the vertebrae that control movement, breathing, and so on. Next to
the model I saw a small placard advertising their new back protector that highlighted how
it protected each region of the spine. Being an old traditionalist at heart, I quite enjoy
moving and breathing (and referring back to Maslow, they’re fairly fundamental needs),
so the benefit of avoiding spinal damage in a motorcycle accident resonated strongly with
me. With that seed planted in my mind, every time I thought about going riding without a
back protector, I was reminded of how much I enjoy moving and breathing. I now own—
and wear—a Knox back protector.
There is a simple technique you can use to home in on the benefits of a product
versus its features or characteristics. Every time you describe what you think is a benefit,
ask yourself repeatedly: “So what?” Essentially, when you get to the point that you can’t
sensibly ask the question any longer because the benefit is self-evident, you’re there. Say
you’re selling mortgage loans. Is a loan at a good rate really the extent of the benefit
you’re offering? By asking themselves “So what?” banks have started to market their
mortgages not as a means to buy a house, but as a way to enable a shorter commute and
make it home in time to read your child a bedtime story. Benefits matter to us in the real
world and exert an emotional pull on us.
In contrast, the features of a product or service are the means by which it helps the
user to realize its benefits. My motorcycle would not allow me to experience the benefit of
the enjoyment I get from chasing up a winding road if it didn’t have the features of quick
steering and a responsive engine. Similarly, any benefit of enjoyment it brings would
come to an abrupt and sticky end if it lacked the key feature of brakes. Another way to
illustrate the relationship between benefits and features is with Trello,16 a tool I often use
to manage product backlogs for my clients. It’s like a virtual set of sticky notes on a board
and is particularly helpful when I’m coordinating remote development teams that can’t see
the more typical sprint board. The chart shows the difference between a benefit (the
answer to the question, “So what?”) and a feature (which describes what the product
does).
A user persona should focus on details relevant to the product. (Courtesy of Luke Miller)
We already know that Lucie loves snowboarding—in fact, she’s passionate about
sports of all varieties. This is no bad thing given that she also happens to be the executive
product manager at the BBC responsible for all BBC Sport’s mobile websites and native
apps. She oversaw the record-breaking online coverage of the 2012 Summer Olympics in
London, with more than a third of the 9.5 million site visitors per day coming from mobile
devices.27 Her next challenge was to provide a platform for winter-sports lovers to engage
and participate more directly with the online coverage of the 2014 Winter Olympics in
Sochi. If London 2012 was all about never missing a moment, Sochi 2014 was all about
sharing in the moment. Lucie uses strong narrative elements in her user personas to bring
realism and humanity to them. In a talk she gave in Zurich in September 2013, she
recommended following the advice of Steve Portigal not to “create distancing caricatures”
of your users but instead to “look for ways to represent what you’ve learned [from
conversations with users] in a way that maintains the messiness of actual human
beings.”28 Users are real people, with hopes and fears, desires and frustrations. Crafting
personas helps you keep this in mind.
I hope by this point you’ve begun to feel a sense of enthusiasm about product management
and understand why it’s so important and how stimulating and rewarding the work is.
There is excitement in the journey of bringing a new product to life. But the job isn’t for
everyone, and this is in large part because it involves not only managing products, but
managing people.
Product managers will almost always both report to a manager and manage other
people. You’re responsible for the collective efforts of a virtual team of people across the
different departments within your company, even though none of them report directly to
you. And if all goes well, at some point you’ll probably also end up directly managing
other product managers, as well as business analysts and possibly even developers and
designers. Your product’s success (and so your own) is largely contingent on your ability
to understand, relate to, and influence others well. One of the side effects of being hooked
into so many different aspects of your organization is that you’ll quickly uncover the
dysfunction. Every company has some kind of dysfunction—whether a charming
eccentricity or a less desirable habit—so you just have to figure out how to cope with the
various kinds of dysfunctional behavior. And that can get rocky.
As the one in the center of the three rings, the product manager bears much of the
burden of reconciling competing views and goals. The most common ways in which any
organization goes wrong boil down to the triumvirate of poor communication,
incompetent or adversarial senior managers (those with a “them and us” mindset), and
lack of alignment with a shared vision. These are all people problems—and you’re the
person in the eye of the storm who has to overcome them. I’ll be honest, the job can
sometimes feel like a struggle against the machinations of people whose sole purpose in
life is to derail your product at every turn. Jean-Paul Sartre wrote in his play No Exit,
“Hell is other people.” On some days, I know exactly what he means.
A product manager is often described as the “CEO of the product,” but this is
misleading—you will rarely have any of the direct authority that the term CEO implies
over other departments, and sometimes only limited authority over the development team.
This is why you’ve got to achieve success almost entirely through influencing others to
follow your plan, which is made much more challenging by the fact that more often than
not your coworkers fail to understand your role or appreciate your value. To have the
necessary influence, you must empathize with all the various players, speak their
language, and earn their respect. The good news is that the sorts of issues that come up
tend to fall into categories with which you become familiar, and you will get better and
better at heading them off at the pass.
Every new product assignment is an exploration into treacherous terrain, and like a
clumsy explorer, over the years I’ve tripped into every ravine, poked every wild bear with
a stick, and been bitten by every poisonous snake. Along the way I learned to have a good
deal of humility, and I tell my Golden Rule—to ignore or do the opposite of what I
suggest—to every product team I work with. The advantage of my mistakes is that I’ve
learned some valuable things about how to work most effectively with each of the main
groups of people you’ll be working with as a product manager. Here I want to give you a
sense of what their respective roles should be when done well, and also illustrate the
typical dysfunctions that crop up and how you might circumnavigate them. Are there
organizations out there that have only paragons of excellence working for them?
Absolutely. Have I bumped into any of them? Occasionally. Most often, you’ll have one
or another laggard or difficult person to cope with.
I should also hasten to add that although I have performed each of the following roles
in at least a basic capacity at some point in my career, which I hope qualifies me to make
some observations from both sides of the fence, I make no claim to be an expert in any. I
should also mention again that my experience has been almost exclusively in creating
software products, so the personnel and issues covered are specific to that domain. But the
issues that come up are mostly fundamental human issues, so they are likely quite similar
in any product domain.
THE DEVELOPMENT TEAM
A product manager’s relationship with the development (or engineering) team is one of the
most important ones to get right, so I’ll start with them. Software developers are an
interesting bunch, but they can often be a difficult group of people to work with,
particularly if you don’t come from a technical background yourself. Google, as
mentioned earlier, only recruits product managers with computer science backgrounds, on
the basis that anyone less technical will fail to “earn the respect of the engineering team.”1
Developers’ impatience with a lack of technical knowledge is perfectly understandable; to
them programming languages, frameworks, software architecture, operating systems,
networks, and the workings of hardware are the stuff of daily nuts-and-bolts process. Each
comes with its own sets of rules and constraints, and a developer has to negotiate all those
constraints like a multidimensional crossword puzzle in order to make the product actually
work. Unaware and unrealistic designs can be infuriating.
The really good developers can instinctively tell from a set of your software
requirements where the complexity, performance bottlenecks, and other difficulties will
arise in making the vision a reality. And that’s before they encounter a previously
undiscovered bug in one of the many different building blocks of third-party software
they’re relying on to assemble what you need, which necessitates them to either rethink
the whole approach or undertake a massive development detour to work around the
problem. They’re like car mechanics who can diagnose a leaking cylinder head gasket
from the sound of a running engine alone and can strip down and fix the offending part by
the end of the afternoon—but more so. Developers are miracle workers. They turn a
product vision into reality and make it look easy.
If you really want to annoy development, follow these easy steps:
A brand is about having a unique idea, personality and style and demonstrating
it in everything that you do, in your products, in the way your people behave, in
your communications, advertising and other promotions, and in your
environments, your offices and showrooms. A brand is not a logo, it’s a
presentation of who you are and what you stand for in everything you do and to
every audience with whom you deal.4
When you think of Rolls-Royce cars, you perhaps think of British refinement,
elegance, and opulence. When you think of Volvo, you probably think of solid build
quality, middle age, and passenger safety (and probably not raciness). But brand
perception is another double-edged sword. Negative associations with a brand can be
extremely difficult to change. Take the case of luxury electric-vehicle manufacturer Tesla
Motors, which had to fight a PR rearguard action after the press published photos in 2013
of Tesla’s cars on fire at the side of the road.5
A good marketing team can be just as magical as a talented design team, but
marketing people can also sometimes be vexing. Market research, communication, and
brand management are all specialist disciplines intrinsic to the success of a product, yet
some of the marketers I’ve worked with failed to understand the importance of developing
expertise in these disciplines. In fairness, some were saddled with having to market a
lackluster product that hadn’t changed significantly since the previous millennium in a
fiercely competitive market. Despite their best efforts, they were never going to achieve
great success. But time and again in different companies I see the same dysfunctions
cropping up.
At Zeus Technology, marketing’s solution to seemingly every problem was an
expensive yet extremely subtle “rebrand”—by which they actually meant just changing
the logo colors and fonts. Looking back at the archives of the website, I counted at least
seven logo changes in ten years. For a while, the logo was changing every year. The
design agencies must have been laughing into their Pantone mugs when they heard us
coming.
On other occasions, style would overtake substance (and common sense). During a
recruitment campaign, the marketing team seized upon the idea of enticing individual
candidates with the message: “We won’t keep your brain in a box.” So they mailed out
white twenty-inch-square presentation boxes (which looked like they should contain
luxury chocolates), each with a shelled walnut half glued to the center. The walnut was
meant to resemble a small brain. And apart from the slightly mixed message of not
wanting to keep, and yet actively presenting, brains in a box, the impact was further
undermined: first, there was the note enclosed saying the glued-in walnut shouldn’t be
eaten for health reasons; second, because marketing had failed to apply the correct
postage, the lucky recipient had to pay for the privilege of receiving a massive box
containing an inedible nut resembling a mouse brain, all as an enticement to join a
forward-thinking software startup.
Another dysfunction occurs when marketers believe that market research means
exclusively focus groups and parrot back every sound bite from a focus group as the
gospel truth without delving any deeper into the findings. “Eight out of ten customers we
interviewed said our products were too expensive, so we need to reduce our prices.” With
qualitative feedback such as this, it may in fact be the case that the products are
overpriced; however, it’s equally possible that customers are not realizing the full benefits
or value of the product, or that the product is not suited to the market segment targeted
(and hence is not valued), or that the canny customers are simply angling for a discount. It
could even be that the interviewer inadvertently introduced bias when conducting the
research with a leading question: “Do you think our products are expensive?” Without
further research into the product’s value and pricing within its intended market niche, it’s
not possible to say for sure whether products are overpriced.
A good deal of research has shown that focus groups can lead to mistaken
conclusions. One glaring example is that of the focus group response to a new sneaker
design Reebok was considering. As Gianfranco Zaccai, founder and president of
Continuum, the design group that devised the sneaker concept, recalls:
When Continuum pitched an idea to Reebok for a new basketball shoe that
would use inflated air to better support the ankle, thereby reducing injuries, the
brand manager for basketball shoes said he wasn’t interested because he had
never heard about a need for that from a focus group. When we proposed the
idea to a high school basketball team, the response was even worse—the players
openly laughed at the concept.
But when the team members actually used an early “experiential model” of
the shoe during practice, they were won over by how cool it was to have a shoe
form-fitted to their feet. Over time, they were even more enthusiastic as they
realized they could play more confidently without fear of injury. Like that, the
Reebok Pump was born.6
Marketing teams may favor qualitative market research because it’s relatively easy to
conduct and seems to yield useful results. However, interviews and focus groups are also
susceptible to various research biases, particularly moderator acceptance bias
(interviewees may try to give the answer they think the interviewer is looking for rather
than an honest response) and sensitivity bias (focus group participants may not wish to
admit weakness or a personal failing in front of their peers). I’ve found that these two
biases crop up particularly often in usability tests, themselves a form of qualitative
research.
In 2013, I was moderating some usability tests on a data visualization prototype in
Rwanda with government employees. In that country, at least in the ten or so government
departments I visited, there was a very strong management hierarchy. Employees showed
great deference and respect to their managers, to the extent that their desire to impress
their bosses (and outshine their peers) clearly biased their behavior and responses. For this
reason, to allow the interviewee to feel comfortable enough to make “mistakes” in the
usability test and give honest feedback, I had to ensure that I ran the tests strictly on a one-
on-one basis (a good idea generally), meaning that I’d sometimes have to shoo the
interviewee’s manager and colleagues politely but firmly from the room.
Similarly, a dominant voice on a focus group panel may cause other participants to
follow the leader (dominant respondent bias), or in other situations a herd mentality may
emerge (social acceptance bias). As an illustration of these peer-driven effects, Tom
Webster from Edison Research described how researchers at the University of Glasgow
once observed different results depending on whether individual interviews were
conducted before or after focus groups:
Plot the people involved with your product on a stakeholder map. (Image concept courtesy
of General Assembly)
In contrast, the person running your technical support team is likely to be very
interested in the progress of the product, but not necessarily directly influential on it, so
would sit in the bottom-right block. However, if you’re beginning to notice that everyone
in your organization seems to be both highly interested and influential, you’ll have your
work cut out for you. That situation sounds suspiciously like design by committee, and
you’ll have an immensely difficult job reaching consensus to move the product forward.
An even bigger challenge will be to gently negotiate some of the stakeholders into
positions of lesser influence, freeing you to assert more control over your product and
make decisions more easily. This is where good communication can make all the
difference.
BETTER COMMUNICATION
Right at the beginning of this chapter, I mentioned that poor communication is responsible
for much dysfunction within organizations. If people aren’t exchanging information with
each other well, how on earth can they expect to coordinate their efforts? With that in
mind, it’s always a source of bewilderment to me that we rely so heavily on email to
communicate. Emails taunt us in our inbox, begging for attention. They follow us on our
mobile devices. There is no respite. Most importantly, they’re categorically not suited to
all situations. So come a bit closer—I have some important advice for you: you can also
talk to people.
As a general rule, product managers receive about four hundred to five hundred
emails per week and respond to roughly half of them, which takes up about a third of their
working lives. I bet a significant proportion of these emails could be avoided if the sender
just picked up the phone or wandered across the office for a chat. Some people choose to
hide behind emails as a way of avoiding unpleasant human interaction. If this is your view,
I hate to be the one to point out that product managers are expected to speak to people
occasionally; it comes with the territory. Emails aren’t just addictive, they can lead to
inefficiency. According to one study, each time we allow one to interrupt us, it takes more
than a minute for us to recover our train of thought.9 Dr. Tom Stafford notes in a 2008
article in The Guardian:
Both slot machines and email follow something called a “variable interval
reinforcement schedule,” which has been established as the way to train in the
strongest habits. This means that rather than reward an action every time it is
performed, you reward it sometimes, but not in a predictable way. So with
email, usually when I check it there is nothing interesting, but every so often
there’s something wonderful—an invite out, or maybe some juicy gossip—and I
get a reward.10
Similarly, Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist Charles Duhigg writes in his book, The
Power of Habit:
The practice of product management may have its roots in Neil McElroy and bath soap at
P&G, but that hasn’t prevented some of the highest-profile companies from creating
doomed consumer products. You may remember some of these classic failures:
» New Coke was designed to compete with the sweeter-tasting Pepsi, but sparked
such an outcry from loyal customers that it was promptly withdrawn and replaced by
the original recipe.
» The Sony Betamax lost the feature war to VHS because it couldn’t fit a movie on a
single tape.
» The Ford Edsel couldn’t live up to Ford’s sustained prelaunch hype, had a name
that sounded like “pretzel,” and looked just plain weird.*
Or what about the stomach-churning mental associations caused by ill-advised brand
extensions such as Bengay Aspirin (that familiar, scented pain relief cream—in my
mouth), Life Savers soda (sickly-sweet liquid candy—yuck), and Frito-Lay Lemonade
(mmm, salty potato chip goodness, but in a sweet drink)? Each of these wonders was
presumably thought at the time by its respective owner to be the “next big thing” for the
brand, and each failed miserably. The litany of failed products is long and populated by
failures that range from the outright laughable—celery-flavored Jell-O;1 what kid (or self-
respecting vegetarian) was going to eat that?—to the perversely tragic—in the 1970s and
‘80s, lawn darts were a fun and popular outdoor game, but they caused thousands of
disfiguring injuries and three deaths before the Consumer Product Safety Commission
eventually banned them.2
Consumer products have a notoriously high failure rate because their success requires
mass-market appeal. They generally have to sell in very large quantities to offset the high
costs of research and development, approval, and distribution for sale. This makes me glad
that I work mainly with software products; in many respects they’re much simpler to bring
to market. In chapter 2, we looked at the Segway as a textbook example of a solution in
search of a market problem. It failed to fulfill the original vision for the product for several
common reasons: like the Ford Edsel, it couldn’t live up to its hype; it was not needed by
as large a segment of the market as its creators thought; and the creators neglected to
check their assumptions, the main one being that it would be legal to ride. If we could just
perform more effective, up-front research, perhaps the percentage of products that fail—
the statistics for which vary wildly from one in three to nine in ten3—would be drastically
reduced. But as the case of New Coke showcased so glaringly, the painful fact is that
sometimes even extensive market research and product testing lead us astray. Coca-Cola
had conducted two hundred thousand consumer taste tests to confirm that their new
formula tasted better than classic Coke, but they had failed to appreciate the bigger picture
of consumer devotion to the brand.
Schadenfreude over “What were they thinking?” failures is almost irresistible, and
every product manager has his own list of favorite flops. Among my personal favorites is
the attempt by French ballpoint pen manufacturer BIC to introduce a terrifically
patronizing range of pens branded “for her,” leading to some of the most amusingly
sarcastic reviews ever written on Amazon.4 I also still chuckle about Coca-Cola’s doomed
attempt to introduce Dasani water to the UK. Right from the start, things went badly.
Dasani’s advertising inadvisably claimed the product was full of “spunk,” the meaning of
which in the UK is quite different from in the U.S. (referring to a bodily fluid generated
during a certain “spunky” activity between couples, which shall not be named here).5 The
press had no end of fun with that. Then a spokesperson let slip in an interview that the
water was actually purified, remineralized tap water. That sounded somehow perverse.
The final nail in the coffin was the revelation that some of the supplies had been
contaminated with the chemical compound bromate, which is suspected of being a
carcinogen.6 The PR damage was done. Dasani lasted just five weeks in the UK before
being withdrawn.
Every product manager should know that failure is always a possibility, even with the
most brilliant product concept and engineering. Just think again about that comparison of
Segway and Glass and how hard it is before launch to determine whether a product like
Glass will take off in the mass market. In this chapter, keeping in mind the lessons learned
about assessing consumer demand and working effectively with the product team, we’ll
first take a look at an additional set of the most common ways in which product creation
goes off the rails. Sometimes the key problems are not so much in the initial assessment of
what the consumer needs, but in bringing the product to the right market at the right time,
ensuring it will be profitable, and orchestrating a polished and coordinated launch.
Although the product manager can never entirely control the whole product process, and
no product manager can ensure success, no matter how experienced she is or how
remarkable her knack for knowing the market, we do have a core set of practices with
which we can do the best possible job of keeping the process of development and launch
on course.
As mentioned before, there are many established frameworks for the product
management process, each with its own best practices and formula, but in my experience,
no two companies I’ve worked with have followed these methods in exactly the same way.
That’s why, as I’ve been doing throughout this book, I’ll introduce the fundamentals rather
than presenting a methodology to follow slavishly. In my experience, it’s best for product
managers to cherry-pick the right tools for a given company and job. The good news is
that you will be able to employ the basic practices I’ll be covering here irrespective of the
framework you’re using. And if the product doesn’t manage to navigate to the right side of
the fine line between success and failure, when you’ve applied these practices, you, your
team, and higher-ups will know that the failure wasn’t due to your simply allowing the
wheels to fall off.
I started the chapter by referring to a set of notorious packaged goods failures. Well,
the world of software products has its own special repository of unfortunate releases, and
while some of them seem to have been clearly destined for consumer rejection right from
launch—Apple Maps comes readily to mind—others have more complicated reasons for
failure. Let’s take a look at the most common reasons that products fall flat, with a special
eye to some issues that are specific to software development and launch.
THE WHOLE PRODUCT MUST BE READY
When you think of the quality of a product, it’s important that you think about not just the
product your development team has built, but the whole product in the Crossing the
Chasm sense, meaning the associated customer services, partners, and distribution
channels as well. An otherwise perfect launch can be ruined by just one aspect of the
whole product experience failing—this is why it’s so difficult to get right. If you think
about it this way, there are many ways in which a product can end up falling well below
the required standard. It might be that the product only goes partway toward solving the
desired problem, or the design is confusing to customers, or the product has been rushed
out the door prematurely before the company, partners, and distributors are ready, or it still
contains many defects. Time pressure can arise if the company sets itself a deadline
(arbitrary or otherwise) and refuses to be flexible with it. Embarrassing premature
launches can also happen if the company is too focused on responding to its competitors’
movements, rather than having the confidence to hold on until the product is ready for
release.
Apple Maps was a perfect example of this, and a rare launch misfire for the company.
Despite initial coziness—Google’s then-CEO Eric Schmidt had been on Apple’s board at
one point—relations between Apple and Google had become strained since Google
released Android. Steve Jobs was livid, accusing Google of stealing Apple’s ideas and
saying he was going to “destroy Android.”7 The sticking point was that Google Maps had
turn-by-turn navigation on Android, but not on iOS, and Google wasn’t in the mood to
give away one of Android’s key advantages.8 So with the release of iOS 6 in September
2012, Apple removed Google Maps from its App Store and replaced it with Apple’s own
software. However, as it soon became clear, Apple Maps had been rushed out the door and
was far from ready. Landmarks like the Golden Gate Bridge were misplaced by miles, the
Brooklyn Bridge looked like it had melted,9 and trusting users were lured onto airport
runways10 and into the Australian desert.11 The app had failed in its primary task—to help
its users navigate accurately from point A to point B—so a few months later, Apple had to
backtrack and allow Google Maps back into the App Store, whereupon Google’s product
became the most popular download overnight.
But wouldn’t you consider Apple Maps to be a minimum viable product? Aren’t
MVPs just substandard products rushed out to market? Well, no, not if you’re doing what
you’re meant to. If you remember, the key word is viable, by which we mean
commercially viable. The product may solve only one small problem for a small niche
market in a basic way, but it should still solve that problem completely; customers should
be willing to part with hard cash for it to solve that problem.
Maps was a high-profile failure of product quality and uncharacteristic of Apple’s
usual attention to detail, but we see this exact problem happen time and time again with
other companies. Either the core product itself is subpar, or a good product is let down by
a painful whole-product experience. First impressions matter—don’t rush a launch if the
whole product is not ready.
MISSING YOUR WINDOW
While there’s no benefit in rushing something out before it’s ready, dawdling longer than
you have to before entering a market can also be a sure path to failure, particularly if the
market is a short-lived fad. Equally, jumping late into a well-established market is a little
like diving into shark-infested waters—you’ve got to have a pretty serious advantage
tucked away to survive for long against all those experienced competitors. While you’re
holding back, perhaps still plowing through a backlog of requirements that long ago
ceased to be “must-have” for launch, your competitors will be launching more minimal
but perfectly acceptable products that satisfy the market needs better than your nonexistent
product. Or you may find that you’ve been in lockdown for so long building your product
that when you finally emerge, blinking, into the sunlight, your customers’ needs have
evolved and your new product is already obsolete. It’s one problem to enter the right
market late, but it’s an entirely different problem to pick the wrong market to enter in the
first place. The market itself may be going away: you don’t see many developers rushing
to build native BlackBerry apps, for instance.
Thinking back to the Kano model, you’ll remember that over time, distinctive
delighters become linear satisfiers, then baseline features. This means a late-entry product
must do more from the outset just to be permitted to compete in the market; differentiation
from competing products will be more difficult, and commoditization means profit
margins will be tighter. It’s always a better idea to find the clear water of niche markets in
which only your product can compete, even if only to begin with.
Keep a sense of urgency when planning to enter a new market. You don’t necessarily
have to be first, but you certainly don’t want to be last. Be ruthless about initially
delivering the minimum set of product features required to satisfy a basic market need
completely, then learn from the feedback and iterate quickly to improve in the right areas.
STRETCHING OUTSIDE YOUR EXPERTISE
Many companies have tried to extend a brand farther than it should stretch—recall the
attempts to sell consumers Life Savers soda and Frito-Lay Lemonade. In the computing
products terrain, think of the Facebook phone. This isn’t to say that brands don’t have to
extend into new areas, but they should do so by growing their expertise. Of course, this is
much easier said than done, and sometimes companies just have to get into a new business
and polish their expertise as they go. Microsoft is a good case in point. Its first-generation
Surface tablet was largely a market failure, but the company made improvements for the
next generation, and the Surface 2 was better received. It was important for Microsoft to
build its consumer products business while the home PC market declined, and this was a
calculated effort.
But you can also misstep badly if you naïvely attempt to enter a market too far
removed from your company’s area of expertise. Such initiatives often end up as
distractions from your core product strategy and stretch resources and investment as you
set about learning how the market works. There’s a good reason most big players enter
new markets by acquiring smaller, specialist firms—as Apple did with both iTunes and the
iPod, and as Microsoft did with Nokia: it’s the quickest way to gain niche market
expertise, albeit a more costly option.
MAKING A FLAWED BUSINESS CASE
While a business case for your product will never be an exact predictor of the future, you
should still be wary of models that depend on an unreasonably high sale price for mass
adoption in the market or, conversely, indicate slim or nonexistent profits. You might
recall the example earlier of Iron Mountain’s “successful” backup service that lost money
on every customer. Poor execution on the product delivery meant a crucial data
compression feature was omitted, which in turn raised the operating costs sufficiently to
negate the profit margin. A similar problem can arise if the sales team or retailers lack
confidence in the product and are unable to articulate its value to different market
segments or if competitive pressures result in a price war.
Another potential pitfall arises when even moderate success will be insufficient. If
your business case relies on achieving exponential growth for the product to be considered
a success, it’s going to be much harder to achieve the high rate of customer acquisition
needed. When thinking about the business model for your product, pay attention to the
factors that may have the most impact on your profitability. Build three business cases: the
best case (every variable factor is in your favor), the worst case (the reverse), and the most
likely case. If the difference between best and worst cases is vast, there’s still too much
variability and risk in your model. Similarly, if only the very best case is profitable, pay
attention to the red flag this presents.
Apple may make it look easy, but in practice a successful launch can be very difficult
to orchestrate. I’ve found you can boost your chances of success by making a checklist of
things that each internal department, your customers, and the partners will need to know
and when. It won’t be a short list. Naturally, these items will be specific to your own
company, so work with your teams to create the list you need. Keep your launch checklist
at hand and review progress at least weekly as you approach the launch date. Then, before
the launch, assess how prepared your company, customers, partners, and target market are
for the forthcoming launch by verifying whether they’ve digested the information you’ve
sent out. You could also check with your distributors or sales team to find out how many
preorders have been taken. After your launch, the data you’ve gathered will allow you to
analyze the rate of sales, the proportion of existing customers upgrading, and the
effectiveness of different channels to market, so you can repeat your success and improve
your performance for next time.
CUSTOMERS AREN’T READY OR WILLING TO UPGRADE
A particularly challenging issue with software is that nothing ever stands still. We have to
constantly contend with technological innovation in the ecosystem of products our product
depends on or is designed to complement. We end up releasing an updated version of our
product either to take advantage of a new opportunity or to respond to a significant
change. But while we may become accustomed to change, our customers may not be so
willing to move with the times. Even if you’re shipping desktop or server software (as
opposed to cloud-based web apps), eventually the operating system version on which your
product runs will go away, and, in extreme cases, if you haven’t stayed up to date the cost
(and practicality) of porting ancient software to a new operating system may be
prohibitive.
I once observed this very problem firsthand at a software supplier whose few
remaining mainframe customers (mostly banks) had finally gotten around to upgrading
their systems. They soon discovered that the original software didn’t run on the new
mainframe server. Although the software had lain untouched all these years, the customers
had been paying for software maintenance throughout and so requested an updated version
from the supplier. The complication was that the supplier had unwisely gambled on the
customers’ glacial pace of change and made its entire mainframe development team
redundant several years earlier. The company no longer possessed the technical
knowledge in-house to update the software in question. The options available were to lose
the mainframe customers (expensive—particularly if they requested a refund for all those
years of pointless software maintenance payments), to migrate the customers onto a
working version of the software on a different operating system (impractical for the
customers), or to find and recruit the necessary developers to update the software (time-
consuming and costly). In the long run, the gamble of ignoring the customers stranded on
the old version of the software (while the maintenance payments continued to roll in) had
most certainly not paid off.
There are often perfectly sensible reasons why a customer may not want or be able to
move up to the latest version every time you release. As Microsoft found out when they
launched Windows Vista, aside from the user interface annoyances12 and initial lack of
support for printers and other peripherals,13 the real killer of widespread adoption—
particularly in the lucrative corporate market—was Vista’s significantly increased
hardware requirements over its predecessor, Windows XP. When deciding whether to
upgrade everyone’s desktops and laptops, corporate IT departments were having to factor
in not just the operating system license costs, but also the wholesale costs of replacing
aging machines with higher-spec hardware.14 With IT budgets squeezed, the vast majority
elected to skip Vista entirely when it was released in 2006 and wait until Windows 7
appeared. Several years later, over a quarter of users15 were still clinging to XP right up
until Microsoft finally killed it off in April 2014, possibly because the prospect of
upgrading to Windows 8 was just as unappealing.
The timing of upgrades can be a major hurdle for some organizations. Rather than
making changes as needed, the more risk-averse restrict major hardware and software
alterations in their data centers to specific and relatively infrequent windows of
opportunity. Some organizations have quarterly change windows; others have them
annually or even less frequently, causing the changes needed to pile up in advance of each
window. This often results in a highly complex upgrade process that requires weeks (if not
months) of costly planning effort to execute correctly. So the controls these companies put
in place to mitigate the risk of large changes can themselves cause the very problems
they’re meant to prevent.16 If your customers have this kind of change management
process in place, they’re likely to take your product upgrades far less frequently than you
release them, and so will need to make much bigger upgrade leaps each time.
Correspondingly, any end-of-life schedule you create for your software may need to factor
in the lead time needed before an appropriate window of opportunity opens up for your
customers to perform their product upgrades.
You might think that cloud-based products pose less of a problem. After all, rather
than each customer having their own separate copy of your product, everyone uses your
central system, which you host and can update as you please. Well, not quite. Centrally
hosted cloud services may make concerns such as the customer’s operating system largely
irrelevant, but you’ll probably still need to have some concept of versioning as you
continue to evolve your product. The convergence of web technologies to common
standards may have made it easier to support multiple web browsers with a single product
version, but at some point you’ll want to make a significant change that will force you to
decide whether to drop support for an outdated browser with idiosyncratic behaviors or
continue to support it with a lower-tech version of your product alongside the more
advanced mainstream version. Or perhaps you’ll need to retire a feature entirely because
it’s preventing you from reworking some other aspect of your product. On the plus side, at
least you’ll be able to monitor directly who’s using which feature with which browser and
use that information to help you decide what to do.
A trickier problem arises when your customers are integrating directly with an
application programming interface17 (API) you provide. Think of your product’s API as
being the common language spoken by your product and your customers’ systems, with
the different functions the API provides being like the vocabulary. When you need to
make a change to an existing function, it’s a bit like suddenly deriding to substrate one
wurzel for an apricot.* (Ahem.) Quite confusing, you’ll agree. So it shouldn’t be
surprising that your customers’ willingness to upgrade their integrations when you release
a new version of your API will depend on how deeply they’ve integrated their systems
with yours. You end up back at square one: you have to support multiple versions of your
API in parallel until you can encourage your customers to upgrade their integrations to use
the most recent version, and you still need to decide how long you’re going to continue to
maintain those older versions. Even cloud products need an end-of-life schedule.
One final gem of a reason why customers may refuse to upgrade to the latest version:
discovering some salesperson has invented and sold them an “enterprise support contract”
(committing the company to perpetual support for a particular product version), netted the
sizable commission, then quit the company shortly thereafter before anyone realized what
he’d done. As I learned the hard way, that makes for a fun day at the office.
YOUR CRUFT CATCHES UP WITH YOU
There are many different activities competing for a product manager’s attention. (Courtesy
of Jock Busuttil)
Seeking Out Lightbulb Moments
Another day, another fire to put out—it’s all too easy to get lost in the day-to-day tasks.
But your market research is never done. One of the best ways to be blindsided by product
problems is to hide at your desk and fiddle with spreadsheets and documents all day. The
foundation of good product management is to get out there and talk to people. With the
crush of work from managing internal stakeholders and the ongoing development process,
one of the biggest challenges for product managers can be finding the time to escape to
speak to the market regularly. You need to keep on with your wide-angled research by
listening to the challenges faced by potential and existing customers, partners, suppliers,
and regulators, in some cases; you should always be on the lookout for clues that may lead
to good, new product ideas. But you should also be taking the opportunity to focus on
validating the more specific assumptions you’re making about products already under way
—does this feature or that process work as intuitively and smoothly as users would
expect?
There’s no hard and fast rule for how often you need to get out there, but if you can
manage to have at least a few decent conversations each week, that will increase your
likelihood of experiencing “lightbulb” moments. These are the moments that highlight that
you’ve been thinking about the market or your product in a particularly constrained way
without even realizing it—like in cartoons, the metaphorical lightbulb illuminates above
your head. Lightbulb moments are immensely positive experiences because they expand
your world view and open up a wealth of creative options that you’d previously not even
considered. The more lightbulb moments you experience, the better.
Then, to close the feedback loop, periodically test your thinking. There’s a saying
that you only truly understand something when you’re able to explain it to someone else.
So go back to your market and internal stakeholders with what you’ve learned to check
whether you’re on the right track. You could write articles for your company’s blog and
seek feedback; you could run seminars in person or online; you could engage in
conversation with your market on social media or on relevant discussion groups. There’s
really no excuse these days for failing to present and discuss your ideas on a regular basis.
Your objective is to pinpoint the ideas that will form the bases of potential new products or
features. You can simply add new features low down on your product backlog until further
investigation raises their priority. For new products, I recommend using a tool like the
Business Model Canvas,21 shown in the next figure, to structure your thoughts quickly
without the need for a lengthy business case document.
The Business Model Canvas (Courtesy of Business Model Foundry AG)
In order to achieve the right flow of new ideas, I’d recommend you aim to research
and present at least one new idea each month. Making time for such regular presentations
may seem impractical, but it’s important to keep in mind that if you hide indoors while a
current suite of products is in development, you won’t be learning anything new and
you’ll almost certainly miss a change in the market or competitors for the products you’re
working furiously to launch.
Communicating Your Product Plan with a Roadmap
If the features are the “what” of the product, the roadmap is the “when.” Your product
roadmap serves a number of purposes. At its most basic, a roadmap is a communication
tool for coordinating different groups of people. Just as a GPS unit guides you while
driving to avoid traffic, your roadmap will be an invaluable aid to guiding your product’s
progression around unexpected holdups. This is why it’s so important for there to be a
degree of flexibility in the plan to allow for items being delivered later (or sooner) than
expected—circumstances change. If you give people an idea of what they can expect from
your product in the future, they’re able to plan their own related activities around it. Your
development team will need to know what’s coming up in the medium to long term. The
design decisions they’re making now may depend on the direction in which your product’s
heading. They might need to hire people with specific skill sets if, for example, you’re
planning to introduce a new iPhone app later in the year. In much the same way, other
teams within your organization will need to plan ahead to prepare for a major product
release.
With all its various audiences and their differing information needs, a roadmap has to
be a reasonably high-level view of how the product will evolve over time. You could use
your roadmap to highlight both when new features will arrive and when it will be possible
to address a new market segment. You can think of your roadmap as the story arc of your
product, with major themed product releases being like chapters of a book, development
sprints like sections, and individual product requirements like paragraphs, all consistent
with your overall vision. But unlike with a book, you only need to worry about filling in
the detail for a chapter or two at a time. Things change, not least because you’re
continually learning from the market, so there’s little point in planning a release in detail
for two years from now. Once you have your roadmap as a high-level timing guide
allowing each team within your company to plan ahead, you can dive into the detail
needed to satisfy different teams’ processes on the more immediate items. You might have
a roadmap item to introduce a native iPhone app, so as that item approaches you will need
to supply much more detail than the roadmap provides: user stories and mockups to the
designers and developers, benefits and features to the marketing team, pricing and
licensing details to the sales team or partners, and so on.
Some roadmaps have specific dates on them and read a little like Gantt charts. If
you’re bound by very specific deadlines—perhaps your product needs some special
certification, assessed only once a year, before it can be sold—this can be a perfectly
reasonable approach. In other situations, such as in a startup, your primary constraint is
money, rather than time, so you strive to do as much as you can before the money runs
out. Ideally, the guiding factor for releasing a product should be when it’s ready. But if
you’re time bound, when progress is behind schedule and it’s coming down to the crunch,
remember that you’ll have to start sacrificing features from scope (or quality—not
recommended) to keep to the deadline. If you’re working in an Agile way, you should
have a reasonably good idea of how quickly the current development sprint is progressing,
and your sprint backlog will already have the most important requirements at the top of
the list to be done first. Mind the Product cofounder Janna Bastow provides a similar
roadmap as shown in the next figure in the form of an Excel template.22
Not everyone agrees with the time-based approach to roadmapping, which may seem
bizarre; after all, isn’t roadmapping about planning how long products will take to develop
and when to launch? Veteran product manager and former space engineer Simon Cast
points out in his blog post “Roadmapping Without Dates” that by setting such firm dates,
you can shoot yourself in the foot.23 Estimated dates have by nature a degree of
variability, and product managers recognize that fact, so the point at which a specific date
is added to a roadmap is also the point at which everyone except the product manager
believes the item in question will be delivered. It doesn’t matter how you caveat the date
(“It’s a plan, not a promise”), it becomes gospel. Suddenly, you are judged by whether you
meet the entirely fictitious dates, and that judgment doesn’t take into account changing
priorities or potential holdups.
This whole thing where failure is somehow good in Silicon Valley, or failure is
OK, or failure is wonderful, or failure is part of the process, is just a bunch of
nonsense, and is actually a destructive sort of meme because it gives people an
easy excuse to give up. If you look at a lot of the great successes in corporate
history and in technology, they required real determination and real staying
power.29
I can understand the sentiment Ries is trying to convey by using the word failure:
taking a risk is not, in itself, a bad thing; fear of failure should not stop you from having a
go anyway. However, some people can’t get past the word because they’ve been
conditioned to avoid failure at all costs, when really all it represents is the concept of
invalidating a hypothesis or demonstrating with evidence that a held assumption was false.
So maybe instead of failing fast, it’s better for us to think of learning fast. You’re only
going to fail for sure if you learn nothing as you go along.
As I’ve mentioned before, product managers’ ability to absorb knowledge is one of
their most important traits, and this ability includes learning from mistakes. I was once
interviewing candidates for a senior product manager role and was listening to one
candidate tell his backstory of how he’d driven his previous company into the ground by
forsaking all his other customers to risk everything on a single massive deal that never
came through. When I asked him what he’d do differently next time, he replied,
“Nothing.” He didn’t make it to the second round. Even in failure, there should always be
something you can learn that will allow you to improve for next time. While describing
Google X’s rapid prototyping process for Glass, Tom Chi explained how he told his team
to think not in terms of failing, but in terms of learning:
I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.
—Douglas Adams
Management guru Peter Drucker wrote in his book The Effective Executive, “Everything
requires time. It is the only truly universal condition. All work takes place in time and uses
up time. Yet most people take for granted this unique, irreplaceable, and necessary
resource. Nothing else, perhaps, distinguishes effective executives as much as their tender
loving care of time.”1 Drucker may have had effective executives in mind when he wrote
that, but the same applies for product managers. We’ve explored a product manager’s
place at the intersection of the three rings of stakeholders and how it requires juggling the
competing needs of the users, the business, and the technologists. It also requires juggling
time.
Being at the center of things means you’ll always be the best person for all those
around the company to ask about your product, and people will almost constantly want
five minutes of your time for “a quick question.” In addition, the job requires keeping your
eye on the longer-term strategy and direction for products, but the time you allot for this
can be swallowed up by the press of immediate concerns.
This is why another ability that all good product managers need is one they share
(somewhat improbably) with military pilots. To allow pilots to keep their attention on the
outside world, rather than their aircraft’s displays and controls, many planes have a special
transparent, helmet-mounted display that superimposes targeting information and flight
data over part of the pilot’s field of vision but still leaves the wearer free to focus on
what’s going on outside the cockpit. In a similar way, product managers need to be able to
switch their attention at will and swiftly between the concerns of the here-and-now and
what’s looming on the horizon. In an ideal world, you’d hope to be devoting about 80
percent of your attention to long-term planning and the remainder to the short term. (If
you think about it, there is a great deal more future than present.) However, since the real
world rarely follows the script, it’s easy to find yourself spending most of your time
putting out the fires that crop up on a day-to-day basis, leaving you little time to plan for
the future. Start to add in the varying demands of multiple products, all at different stages
of their life cycles, and it should be clear that mastering time management is vital for
product managers.
At this point, you may be concerned because, let’s be honest, product management
sounds like it can be a logistical nightmare. The job can seem outright insane at times, and
the juggling act it requires has prompted some people to suggest that it should in fact be
divided into two jobs, product owner and product manager, with the product owner
responsible solely for keeping on top of the development team and the product manager
responsible for interacting with the other departments and customers. I agree, however,
with product management guru Marty Cagan, author of the book Inspired: How to Create
Products Customers Love. Cagan argued in a post on the Silicon Valley Product Group
blog that such a division runs the risk of having no clear owner of the product creation
process, and of breeding contempt between the two roles. But the most important problem,
Cagan points out, is that splitting the role means that there is no one person that combines
both customer empathy with technical know-how when making product decisions. As he
writes,
A quick triage tool for identifying the most urgent and important tasks to complete
(Courtesy of Jock Busuttil)
Not all tasks are born equal. Some are more urgent than others, and some are definitely
more important than others. In the heat of things, it can be easy to forget whether you’re
devoting time to the most urgent and important tasks, so it can be helpful to quickly sketch
out what’s on your plate right now using a grid similar to the one shown here. (Hint: do
the top-right tasks first.)
Sometimes it is beneficial to pause before embarking on a task. In his book Wait: The
Art and Science of Delay, professor of law and finance Frank Partnoy describes how
sporting professionals learn to delay playing their shot until the last possible moment, as
even these few short milliseconds of extra information convey an advantage over players
who make their move sooner.3 When you’re deciding whether to act, taking an extra
moment, minute, or couple of days—if you have that luxury—to absorb more information
will ultimately improve the quality of your decision. You’d be surprised how often
emergencies arise in which everyone involved is certain that the product manager needs to
take charge and act immediately, yet which resolve themselves within a matter of hours
when a little more information becomes known. Avoid making decisions as a knee-jerk
reaction.
Use Deadlines to Motivate Yourself
In a biting article in the Economist in 1955, British naval historian C. Northcote Parkinson
introduced what’s become known as Parkinson’s Law. The law states (with tongue firmly
in cheek) that “work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.”4 This
means that if you give yourself a few hours to do something, that’s how long it will take.
However, if you’re under more time pressure and have only an hour to get it done, you’ll
still most likely be able to complete it in time. If you’ve ever found yourself putting off a
task until the last possible moment (who hasn’t?), finishing it, and then finding yourself
wondering why you didn’t get it done so efficiently weeks ago, you’ll know the
phenomenon. If, like me, you need the motivation of looming deadlines, get proactive
about them and use them to your advantage. You may find that just putting a reminder in
your calendar isn’t sufficient (I tend to ignore those), so go one step farther and promise
someone that you’ll have it ready for them. Now you’ve committed yourself, and you’d
hate to let someone down, wouldn’t you?
DEALING WITH COMPLEX TASKS
Sometimes a product manager has so much to do that he can feel at a loss for where to
begin. But did you know that ancient Greek philosophers contended with the same
problem? A typically complex product management activity is planning the launch of a
new product. Once you start to think about what’s involved, you realize how many things
there are to do, and before each of those tasks is a precursor activity, and so on. Before
you know it, you’re hyperventilating and incapable of even starting. Strangely, this is very
much like a problem explored by a philosopher called Zeno in one of his paradoxes.
The philosopher Zeno lived in the fifth century BCE, an elder contemporary of the
more famously inquisitive Socrates. He is famous for his many paradoxes, brain teasing
puzzles, one of the most intriguing of which is that known as the paradox of the
dichotomy, concerning a runner named Atalanta. To complete a race, Zeno reasoned,
Atalanta must first reach the halfway point, but in order to get there, she has to first get to
the halfway point of that halfway point (a quarter of the distance), and before that, she has
to get halfway there (one-eighth), and so on, for an infinite number of halfway points. This
means she has an infinite set of distances to cover, so the question is, can she ever get to
the finish line? Zeno was trying to refute the concept that infinite division is the same as
infinite extent, and the paradox makes handy work of this, as it’s quite clearly possible for
Atalanta, and any runner, to finish a race. What makes it relevant here is that the image of
Atalanta at the starting line envisaging the race as an infinity of tiny distances to travel
speaks to the common feeling we can succumb to of being overwhelmed by large jobs. We
often find that a task becomes progressively more complex as we get into the details.
Thankfully for both Atalanta and us, common sense prevails: a runner is clearly able
to both start and finish a race; we are clearly able to launch products to market. The trick
to coping with this overwhelming feeling is to break up large or complex tasks (such as a
product launch) into smaller, more digestible ones. You can then group tasks together by
area: sales, marketing, PR, finance, and so on. The next step is to categorize whether you
(or someone else) need to complete the task now, next week, or later. This should create a
much more manageable to-do list. You can then spend a few minutes each day skimming
through the list to see what you need to do that day and ignore the rest. At the beginning
of each week, get into the habit of checking whether you need to do the tasks now, next
week, or later. This way, you’re concerning yourself with a smaller set of immediate tasks
rather than worrying about the large number of remaining ones. Before you know it, you’ll
be finishing the race.
LEARNING NOT TO CRASH AND BURN
Despite how complex the cockpit of an aircraft looks, flying a plane doesn’t actually
require any particularly superhuman skill or fine motor control. An average airplane will
naturally want to fly straight and level unless you force it to do otherwise. (With a
helicopter, on the other hand, the pilot is continually engaged in a protracted negotiation to
persuade the machine not to hurl itself earthward.) So learning to fly is really an exercise
in improving one’s organization and time management skills.
You may remember from earlier that the pace of the flight training I underwent with
the RAF was intense: we’d learn a technique on the ground, then we’d be expected to
demonstrate it in the air right away. And if you messed it up once too often, that would be
the end of the training. To spice things up every now and again, rather like Cato jumping
out of the closet to surprise-attack Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther movies, my
instructor would unexpectedly throw a simulated emergency at me, ranging from the
inconvenient (radio failure) to the downright troublesome (engine failure). As I became
more experienced, he would present combinations of emergencies to test my ability to
prioritize my responses.
Now, I certainly wasn’t expected to remember all the details my instructor taught me
at once from day one—my head would have caught on fire. Instead, the program built up
my skills over time, like building blocks. In the beginning, the focus was on remembering
all the external checks on the ground without having to use the reference cards as a
prompt. Then I learned to carry out the takeoffs and landings. A little while later I took on
responsibility for the radio calls from my instructor, and so on. The key to learning was to
repeat new skills in order to commit them to memory, then build more skills on top. The
encouraging news is that, over time, by practicing skills this way and consolidating them
into memory rapidly, you actually learn how to learn more quickly.
On several occasions, the workload of carrying out all the routine flying tasks
combined with the new skill we were learning would overwhelm me completely, and I’d
experience what I can only describe as a cognitive crash—the human equivalent of
Apple’s infamous Spinning Beach Ball of Death (which, in case you haven’t seen it, is a
rainbow-colored pinwheel programmed into the Mac OSX system that appears on-screen
to indicate that an application is not responding. It’s also referred to as the Marble of
Doom). At that point, all bets were off. At best I’d just about be able to continue to fly in a
straight line. I’d lose track of where we were, forget all the routine health checks on the
aircraft, miss radio calls, and make a real mess of whatever skill we were attempting to
learn. In these situations, I’d often find myself fixated on looking out of the cockpit at the
pretty, fluffy clouds around us, lost in my own little daydream. It was a weird, light-
headed feeling of being both calm and slightly panicked at the same time.
This overload experience was part of the training process. My instructor was
deliberately pushing me beyond my cognitive limits so that he could teach me the skill of
how to recover from being overwhelmed. Because at some point, it would happen when
I’d be flying up there on my own, and I’d have to be the one to drag myself back to
normal. And with practice I did become better at coping, which means you certainly can,
too.
ONE BRAIN, THREE SPEEDS
So how can you learn to recover from that feeling of being overwhelmed? To do so, it’s
helpful to understand a little about how we learn skills and how our attention works.
You’re probably already familiar with the two systems of decision-making introduced
by Daniel Kahneman in Thinking, Fast and Slow: our fast, intuitive system and our slow,
analytical system. Our fast system responds quickly but sometimes jumps to the wrong
conclusions, like when we leap back from a pepper hidden behind leaves in the garden
that we mistook for a massive spider. (Just me, then?) Where our fast system makes snap
decisions, our slow system brings logic and reasoning into the mix but kicks in only when
needed, as it would if I asked you to count the number of commas on this page. What you
may not be familiar with is the work of neural networks expert Stuart Dreyfus, who builds
on this idea and suggests that there is also a further system for decision-making that is
even faster.5 This system provides expert intuition—what we sometimes think of as the
“muscle memory” we achieve when we master a skill. An experienced snowboarder like
Lucie McLean is using this muscle memory when she doesn’t have to think about carving
sweeping turns down the slope but just turns, and a skilled musician is using it when he
doesn’t think about playing his instrument but just plays. In summary: our muscle memory
just does, our fast system reacts, and our slow system gets out its metaphorical pencil and
works it out.
When we learn an entirely new skill, at first we have to think quite hard about it. We
have to employ our slow system to figure out how we go about doing the task for the first
time, even to the point of figuring out which muscles we need to use in which order and
which combination to achieve the desired effect. If, for example, you normally play tennis
with your right hand, try playing with your left hand instead. To begin with, it will be
tremendously difficult, just like you’re a complete beginner again. Your arm muscles and
hand-eye coordination will be untrained and out of whack, so you’ll be lucky if your
racket makes contact with anything other than thin air. Your brow will be furrowed and
you’ll be exerting lots of mental effort to attempt to hit the ball—you’ll be predominantly
using your slow, analytical system. But then, after a while, something interesting will start
to happen. Your brain will realize that what you’re trying to do is familiar. Swinging a
tennis racket and hitting a ball with your left hand is actually pretty similar to doing it with
your right hand, so if you stop thinking about it, you’ll probably instinctively start to hit
the ball cleanly, if a little weakly. This happens because without thinking, your faster,
reactive system is able to apply its intuition to help you hit the ball. Eventually the skill
will lock in, and you’ll then be able to switch your racket effortlessly between your right
and left hands.
As you become skilled in a task, its demand for energy diminishes. Studies of the
brain have shown that the pattern of activity associated with an action changes as skill
increases, with fewer brain regions involved. Talent has similar effects.6
So how long does it take to achieve mastery of a skill? In his book Outliers, Malcolm
Gladwell popularized a (somewhat arbitrary) rule that it generally takes ten thousand
hours—or about twenty hours of practice per week for ten years—to become not just
proficient but an expert at a cognitively demanding task. There’s a good reason why this
takes so long: practice makes perfect. Or rather, practice makes myelin. When we perform
a task, a pattern of electrical signals is passed down a chain of nerve cells, neuron to
neuron, until the signal reaches its destination. The clever part is that if we perform the
same tasks repeatedly, the cell grows thicker coats of myelin, a fatty substance that
turboboosts the transmission of the electrical signals running through the neurons. This
means that the more you practice hitting tennis balls with the racket in your left hand, the
quicker and stronger the signals become between your brain and left hand.
In the case of my flight training, each new skill I learned through repetition gradually
moved from my slow-thinking system, through my reactive system, and eventually to my
muscle memory as my nerve pathways accrued a thicker, glossier coat of myelin. This
resulting improvement in the strength and speed of the electrical signals in turn reduced
the respective cognitive load of each task, allowing me to perform more of them together.
And when I experienced my occasional cognitive crashes, this was because the
combination of new and existing flying skills I was actively using had not yet moved from
my slow-thinking system. Under pressure, I effectively ran out of brain—the cognitive
load required to perform all these tasks exceeded my available capacity—so my mind shut
itself down for a short while to cool off. But with more practice of the newly learned
skills, I was able to reduce their overall cognitive load and so continue to build up new
skills without always becoming overwhelmed at the same point.
In exactly the same way, if you find yourself in overwhelming situations, once
you’ve had a chance to cool down, assess which tasks you found most difficult and
practice doing fewer of them at the same time. Doing so will allow them to move from
your slow system into the faster thinking systems, thereby reducing their cognitive load. If
one of those tasks is the kind of analytical activity that always has to be thought about the
slow way, make sure you free up capacity by not attempting other cognitively demanding
tasks at the same time. You need to know your limits, but also be aware that repetition
gives you the power to make profoundly better use of your cognitive capacity—you’ll be
genuinely surprised at how efficient you can become with practice.
It’s also worth bearing in mind that our brains are not actually very good at
multitasking. People who claim to be more efficient through multitasking are deluding
themselves. Research has suggested that, at most, our brains can cope with two concurrent
tasks by splitting them between the two frontal lobes of the brain.7 Attempting to perform
a third task concurrently results in a much higher rate of mistakes.
Here are some examples:
We are so connected with one another through our Twitter streams and
Foursquare check-ins, through our Facebook and LinkedIn updates, that we
can’t just be alone anymore. The fear of missing out (FOMO)—on something
more fun, on a social date that might just happen on the spur of the moment—is
so intense, even when we’ve decided to disconnect, we still connect just once
more, just to make sure.11
Despite our newly acquired ability to process many times more information than
before, we’re simply more easily distracted than we used to be. This increased competition
for our attention and our apparent inability to concentrate for long make time management
skills all the more important for everyone, not just product managers.
No matter how you plan it, product workloads always seem to stack up. (Courtesy of Jock
Busuttil)
The workload intensity of product managers tends to be cyclical, and sometimes
these cycles can stack up. When you’re busy, distractions can seriously dent your ability to
Get Stuff Done™. Yet everyone seems to want a piece of a product manager. I don’t know
whether it’s due to our natural charisma or simply because we’re helpful people and
happen to know pretty much everything about our products (sadly, in my case I suspect
it’s only the latter). Be aware that people soon figure out that the quickest way to answer a
product question is to ask the product manager. This is often a good thing—it’s better that
someone ask you than guess the answer or ask someone who’ll give them bad information.
But if you’re trying to concentrate on a single task that requires your full attention, these
questions, whether in person or via phone, email, or instant messaging, are serious
distractions. Each one causes you to lose your train of thought, and it typically takes you a
few minutes to get back into the groove. A few of those interruptions per hour and it’s
easy to see what a problem this can be.
WORKING SMARTER, NOT HARDER
To avoid drowning in the flood of all these distractions, find some headspace to
concentrate, and achieve more in the limited time you have to work, I’d like to share with
you a few techniques and approaches I’ve used.
Disable Notifications
When you’re up against a deadline and need to maintain your focus on the task at hand,
you absolutely must close down your email and instant messaging. If you don’t, you’ll
find it almost impossible to resist the urge to check them, especially if they have attention-
grabbing notifications. The only way to break the habit of checking is to remove the cue to
do so. By the same token, divert all calls to voice mail, and switch off your smartphone
(they do have an “Off” button; I’ve checked) or sling it into your desk drawer where you
can’t see or hear it. If you can’t do that for some reason, turn the volume of the ringer
down (or, ideally, off). For landlines, unplug. I’m serious. The vast majority of calls are
not about something urgent. If the matter is pressing, the caller will simply find someone
else to help them out, usually the person they probably should have been calling to begin
with—you don’t have to facilitate every product discussion in your company. It would,
however, be unwise to unplug at key junctures when you know you’ll probably be
urgently needed, such as on launch day.
Be Elsewhere
If you’ve used the previous technique a few times too often, your colleagues will learn to
come and find you at your desk. The queues will start to form and any chance of meeting
that deadline goes back out the window. This is when it’s important to deploy your second
technique of being elsewhere. Aside from the positive effect of a lovely change of scenery,
working from a different part of the office or at home makes it much more difficult for
people to come by and disturb you. I’ve also found this is a great opportunity to get to
know people from other departments better, which in turn makes it easier to ask for a
favor later on. Needless to say, you can’t hide away too often, but now and then it affords
you the necessary headspace to prevent overload and allow you to focus on the biggest
fires.
Note Down Distractions
If you’re like me, a distraction can set you off thinking about something more interesting
than your primary task. Keep a notepad by your desk, and every time your mind wanders
to something other than the job at hand, write it down for later. This can greatly reduce
your cognitive load. Similarly, when someone comes to your desk asking you to do
something, even if it’s potentially quick, visibly take a note down and be clear that you
first need to finish the task you’re working on. You may find you have to stand your
ground occasionally, as some people will insist you do what they’ve requested
immediately.
(Re)take Control of Your Schedule
In some companies, everyone’s online calendar is a free-for-all (or at least, everyone
who’s not a senior manager). Everyone has permission to view, create, and edit entries in
anyone else’s calendar. This places you at the mercy of invitations to innumerable
pointless meetings. By fiddling around with the settings for your online calendar, you can
usually control who has permission to book you into meetings and how much detail
people can see of your schedule. Frankly, all I generally want people to know is whether
I’m busy or free. Everything else is on a need-to-know basis. Making this change will
mean you can start to block out uninterrupted time in your calendar for your own tasks.
Use the Four Ds of Email
Product managers just loooove solving problems and answering questions. Emails present
us with an enticing list of both, which is yet another reason we find it so hard to tear
ourselves away from them. The trick to regaining control over your emails is to skim them
and use the Four Ds: Delete, Defer, Delegate, and Do.
The proportion of emails in each category typically decrease from Delete through to
Do, roughly corresponding to the size of the semicircles in the figure. This will result in
the number of emails you need to respond to immediately being quite minimal.
You should devote regular slots of time in your schedule to the tasks that are a
constant part of your work, such as reading and responding to emails, to prevent these
tasks from being constant interruptions. The trick is then to be sufficiently self-disciplined
to ensure that you use the allotted time—and no more—for each specific task. It may be
difficult to do at first, but after a few days you’ll find it becomes easier to be disciplined.
This technique has the added benefit of training other people to know and respect your
routine.
Jock Busuttil is a product consultant, speaker, and writer. He has spent more than a
decade working as a product manager for technology companies ranging in size from
startups to multinationals, including Zeus Technology, Iron Mountain, and Experian. In
2012, he founded Product People (productpeo.pl), a product management consultancy.
With a number of associates, he provides help to companies large and small needing an
extra pair of hands, and his clients include After the Flood, BBC, eWise, Inkling,
SwiftServe, and What Users Do.
Jock routinely teaches classes at General Assembly on product management and
mentors startups, entrepreneurs, and product professionals. He holds a master’s degree in
classics from the University of Cambridge, UK; is the author of the blog I Manage
Products (imanageproducts.co.uk); and regularly contributes articles to Mind the Product
(mindtheproduct.com). You can tweet him @jockbu and can generally find him at
ProductTank each month in London.
* Erich Brenn on The Ed Sullivan Show seems to capture what product management feels
like: The Ed Sullivan Show, YouTube, last modified August 25, 2009,
http://youtu.be/Zhoos1oY404.
* There’s a job role you don’t see anymore. I always thought it should come with some
kind of horned Viking helmet.
* The clue’s in the name: a project manager’s scope of responsibility is the good running
of a project, often within the confines of product development only and with a specific
timescale and set of objectives. The project by definition is short-lived. In contrast, a
product manager’s scope of responsibility is the good running of a product, on a holistic
and open-ended basis, with a set of objectives that evolve with the changing needs of the
target market. A single product will have many projects (and project managers) throughout
its life, but its product manager will ideally be more constant.
* Possibly while bouncing around the room making a rude, raspberry-type noise. March
10, 2000, is considered the date on which the dot-com bubble burst, coinciding with
NASDAQ’s peak at 5408.60, double what it had been a year previously, and a level still
not matched—at the time of writing in May 2014, at least. http://finance.yahoo.com/q/bc?
s=^IXIC&t=my&l=off&z=l&q=l&c=.
* Purely as an aside, Grand Theft Auto V (a headline-grabbing video game) made over $1
billion in the three days following its release. With its creator’s investment of reportedly
between $200 million and $250 million, it just goes to show—twelve years on from
Segway—that the right product in the right market can achieve astonishingly rapid
commercial success. http://www.reuters.com/article/2013/09/20/entertainment-us-taketwo-
gta-idUSBRE98J0O820130920.
*It turns out that this was not an isolated event. More recently, a pigeon nearly caused the
same thing to happen again by dropping a piece of baguette onto one of the supercooled
magnets, raising its temperature above the point where it ceases to be a superconductor.
This containment failure would have resulted in similar damage were it not for the safety
valves that had been added since the last incident. A pigeon. Seriously? See: Lewis Page,
“Large Hadron Collider Scuttled by Birdy Baguette-Bomber,” The Register, November 5,
2009, http://www.theregister.co.uk/2009/11/05/lhc_bread_bomb_dump_incident/.
* If I need to pull up information from the Internet while I’m walking down a crowded
street, I already can do so on my smartphone, and I don’t have to shout to myself to make
it work.
* Bonus step: be ungrammatical and finish sentences with a preposition.
* Strictly speaking, the updated version of situational leadership described in the short
book Leadership and the One Minute Manager. If you can get past the slightly patronizing
tone, it’s well worth a read. See the Further Reading section.
* “Weird” is an understatement. Some customers thought the front grille looked like a
“vagina with teeth,” according to Matt Haig’s book Brand Failures: The Truth About the
100 Biggest Branding Mistakes of All Time, p. 21. See the Further Reading section.
* Translation: “It’s a bit like suddenly deciding to substitute one word for another.”
* A Denon DRA-275RD, if you must know. I’ve never successfully turned the volume
dial up beyond a third without bursting an eardrum.
* It is a documented medical fact (not really) that the part of the brain that permits the
understanding of new technologies shuts down on the occasion of the birth of one’s first
child.