A Real Estate Career: Lessons Learned (2006-2008)

Background: before I graduated from Penn, I was fooling around with searches on Google, which was this new search engine that my gf (at the time) turned me on to.  Before that, I was a Yahoo! guy.

On Google, I was typing in any combination of terms I could think of, that would lead to job openings that I thought were a fit.

As you might have figured out by now, I basically failed the on-campus recruiting system process, with 0 interviews and 0 prospects.  The reasons why are a subject for another and much longer post.  So I was on my own.

Using search terms like ‘analyst’ or ‘research analyst’ or ‘economic research’, I randomly stumbled on various consulting companies, think tanks, and research shops.

The particular search terms I used also led me to a company somewhat boringly called Economics Research Associates.  Despite the dry name, ERA was a theme park, resort, and casino real estate consulting company.  They worked worldwide in exotic locations.

It looked exactly like my type of company!  So I applied.

And this is nothing but a story of persistence.  At the time, I was told there were no positions available, but over the next two years I kept in touch.

Sometimes I called them to let them know I was still interested and had “built some skills” [lol].

And other times they called me.  One time a partner called me when I was in a car with a date and I had to drive erratically around and ignore her while doing an impromptu interview.  By the end, I was sweating profusely and not surprisingly, the date did not go well.  Struggles.

Midway through the summer of 2006, a partner of the firm called me and offered me an interview.  The interview led to a job offer.  I said I would think about it (ha!), and “accepted” a week later.

On the first week of the job, they put me in a business class seat and flew me to attend a presentation in Asia; at this presentation, the governor of a large province declared that he wanted to build an F-1 track, a few casino resorts, two theme parks, and twenty-thousand hotel rooms.  Actually, he wanted more than that, and said that the original plans were too small.

So…I had entered the peak bubble zone.

Now to understand what that was all about, you have to understand what ERA did.  ERA was a staid old consulting firm with partners who were in their 50s to 70s.

ERA was started by the original economic consultant to Walt Disney when he built Disneyland in 1955, and for the next 50 years, the firm was the official consultant of choice to any developer, government, or operator who wanted to build or expand leisure real estate operations.

Our job was to validate the financials and make sure the projects would work.  To perform feasibility studies.

That meant that over the next two years, I sat in a clearinghouse of insane real estate ideas.  Again, this was peak bubble.  This meant that every week, we would be bombarded with plans, sketches, and visions of any conceivable leisure entertainment land use you could think of.

If you remember back to this time, this is when Dubai was announcing a new ludicrous project every few weeks, from the Palm and World Islands, to the tallest tower in the world, to malls larger than cities, and mega theme parks larger than Disney World.

But what is less known, is that it wasn’t only Dubai back then.  It was everywhere, from Iceland to Cambodia, Korea, Mississippi, Spain, Cabo, Kazakhstan, Russia, India, and everywhere in between.

Everywhere but China.  China’s time would come after the financial crisis.

I saw drawings of 100 square mile theme parks, sphere-shaped casinos floating in water, and plans for assault rifle-themed or guitar-shaped theme parks.  I saw 100-story buildings in frontier market cities, biofuel farms, and resorts on deserted islands in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  Every month, someone out of our Europe/Middle East office would send a Powerpoint deck full of pictures for projects in Dubai, with question marks and exclamation points and icons of oil barrels next to them.  At the risk of this sounding like a Ginsburgian “Howl”, let’s stop here.  But you get the idea.

I often think about why there was such a theme park craze during this time.  It seemed like any real estate developer or government was planning one.  I can only posit that it’s because every place in the world had borrowed the Dubai philosophy, which had borrowed it from Las Vegas – build it and they will come.

Before, I mentioned that the Marcus & Millichap San Diego presentation from 2004 should be enshrined somewhere in the Historical Annals.

Equally, any theme park, attraction, or real estate development presentation from this period should also be nominated for the canon.

I shuffled and sat through countless numbers of these: presentations featuring glossy color renderings of buildings that defied physics, and video fly-throughs set to cinematic soundtracks, all meant to hypnotize the viewer into submission; i.e. parting ways with their money.  If you can find them, I recommend sampling the 2007 vintage, which was a particularly ludicrous year.

According to my humble estimate, the total amount of mirages projects being proposed in this manner, coming through our doors alone, totaled more than $100 billion.  Just in Korea, where I was flying almost every month, more theme park projects were being proposed than existed in Orlando.

All this dreaming wasn’t free.  The cost for our services was in the six-figure USD range, so people were dedicating real resources to these projects.  And where was the money coming from?

Who knows.  It was like a spigot in the sky was turned on and the whole world was drinking from it.

Which brings me to the first thing I learned, which was a reinforcement of what I’d been learning since Marcus & Millichap.  Which is that once in a while, the world goes mad.  Actually, the world is probably always insane, and it’s your ability to recognize the lunacy that ebbs and flows.

Also, that there’s no one really in charge.  You think the adults are in charge, but they’re not, they’re nowhere to be found.  No one knows anything.

When I did the analysis for these projects, most of them simply couldn’t work.  It was impossible, unless you extrapolated out economic growth of 10% indefinitely, or you assumed population growth would double, or similar types of leaps of faith.

But, clients simply refused to believe us.  Entire teams of developers had bought into the notion that their fantastic visions were valid, and that they were going to make spectacular sums of money from it.  They had dug in already.  They had hired teams of analysts and drivers, rented out expensive office space, and already spent millions of dollars on designs and licenses and studies.  This is when I truly saw the fallacy of sunk costs at work.

So sometimes clients received our reports and turned it into a negotiation session.  Because they were going to present the report to the government and investors, they needed to juice the numbers past our single-digit return figures.

And it was during this time I realized the truths about Excel that I wrote about in the previous post.  Because they were being used on me.

All clients in some way would argue with us, but some more than others.  One client in particular, in response to our report, sent back a fifty sheet Excel workbook that had reverse-engineered the logic from the study, and plugged in so many variables and cross-linked assumptions that it took me a day to figure out that what they were really trying to say was: the project would make money in the 20%+ range, unlevered, because it would sell out enough villas and golf course memberships in the middle of nowhere, to fund a billion dollars worth of construction costs.

From the outside in, you could see the lunacy.

But maybe from the inside, it’s hard to just reel it all back in, isn’t it?  More on this later.

Also, again, money: money amplifies, it buffers, it can shield and hide a lot of things.  And during a bubble time, money expands like a balloon into cracks and allows you to ignore reality.

Everyone is making extravagant claims, and money allows you to delay the moment of truth.  Another thing I learned related to this.  Times like those breed a lot of crooks and swindlers.  But you don’t know who they are, because during bubbles they can keep financing their schemes and extravagant claims.  As Warren Buffett says about the tide and that only when it goes out can you see who is swimming naked.

It’s only when the bubble pops that you see it clearly.  Anyway, two of my clients from this time went to jail.

Don’t get me wrong.  I think more clients than that went to jail or got in trouble in their home countries.  But these are the only two I interacted with.

I think the common thread between them was that they were both good talkers.  Good talkers and sellers sometimes start believing their own…exaggerations.

Having interacted with both of them for extended periods of time, I don’t think either set out to commit crimes.  But when you start talking about visions that are outside your reach, and money is widely available, things happen.

Your exaggerations spawn fractally, and so do your promises.  It slowly creeps into the future, first one year, then five years, then ten years.  Your sums grow from 5%, 10%, to 50%.

In your own enthusiasm, hallucinating from your IV drip of capital, you start making promises you want to fulfill.  Not promises that you know you can.  It’s a fine line.

After all, what is a Ponzi scheme but an infinite daisy chain of claims that stretch far into the future?  It’s sustained by nothing else than belief, and sold by sellers who can persuasively sell others on their visions of the infinite future.  And cheap money delays and delays.  That’s one of its primary characteristics.

And that’s all I can say about that.

Personally though, about two years into the job, I hit a wall.  The work was not making sense and I was getting metaphysically anxious.

Beginning in 2008, I could see stirrings of economic fallout.  Bear Stearns had failed, and some of the economic news I’d been reading about mortgage brokers made me uneasy.  I had no idea what was going to happen, but I couldn’t help but think that this stuff was not going to last.

It’s hard to express my sentiments during that time.  I keep writing this, don’t I?  In 2007, it seemed like we were having an End of World Party.  Then in 2008, we started seeing the fault lines.

Simultaneously, ERA was getting acquired.  Talks for it started in 2007, and rumors were circulating about the implications.  Mostly about the bad implications, like restrictions and new evil overlords.

So during the summer of 2008, exactly two years after I began, I made the decision to leave and go independent with some partners.

I didn’t know that in the week I quit, Lehman would go under.  Sigh.  We’ll continue with that in the next installment.

To close this out though, let’s talk about what happened to the company, because I learned a lot from it.

After ERA was taken over at a high multiple, and the financial crisis happened, 29 out of 30 partners either quit or were fired.  The once-proud, established firm then just became a carcass of its former self within 2 years.

From the outside, I could see it disintegrating in slow motion.  Inexorably, but still happening.

Honestly, I was quite surprised when I left, and no one else left with me.  This is not me applying 20/20 hindsight.  You could see that 90% of our work was for clients who were chasing clouds.  You could see that there were cracks appearing in the real estate markets, everywhere in the world.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I didn’t want to see what happened, so I left.

A few years later, I worked with an older investor named Larry who mused, often, that companies are hard to kill.  It’s hard to kill a company, he would say, shaking his head, as he talked about his failed businesses.  When he said this, I would always think of ERA.

I left because I thought the company would blow up.  But it didn’t.  It took a while. a year or two, before it all fell apart.  Companies are groups of people, and groups of people who are not nomads don’t just pick up and leave overnight.  Even when from the outside it looked like there was no way this company could survive the Lehman fail and the resulting financial crisis, people still hung in there.

From the outside, it looked like people were huddled.  Maybe out of fear.  Maybe because this is all they knew, and it was a family.  Maybe because from the inside, there was a sense of comfort in seeing that the same people in familiar surroundings.  In peoples’ heart of hearts, maybe they knew – but they didn’t want to face the reality.  Familiar chord, isn’t it?

It took a lot longer to disintegrate than I thought it would.  But its end came, and it was a long, sorry fall.  In its corner of the amusement park industry, ERA was a giant, a monopoly.  And because it was a monopoly, a lot of things had happened to the company over the years.  For one, there was widespread complacency.

For a company that charged McKinsey-level rates, I couldn’t believe that the company still didn’t have a central database or repository of knowledge.  There were relics in our office that again, I should have saved or asked for, because they should be enshrined in the Annals.

Typewriters from the 1960s.  Dewey-decimal card systems for a physical library of brochures, books, encyclopedias, and reports, many of them terribly outdated by decades.  Brochures from World Fairs during the 1960s and 1970s.  Reports and relics from failed Japanese theme parks of the 1990s.  Secretaries who took down dictations of reports and emails/letters by older partners.  On typewriters.  Older partners who off the top of their head could dictate 5 to 10 pages at a time.  Slide rules.  11×18 spread, sheets.  If you don’t know what that last one is, think a notepad of graph paper-like cells in them, except wider – basically like a physical version of Microsoft Excel.  And partners who would take a No. 2 pencil, do a cash flow, and do the sensitivity analysis by writing a different variable at the top and erasing/replacing each individual cell on the rows below it.

The office was a hybrid of a Mad Men set and a modern workplace.  The first day I joined, I introduced myself to a 70-year partner who guffawed, slapped me on both cheeks, and said it was good to have some young blood in the office.

But I mention all this because if nothing else, the company is a case study for the power of a brand.  Having a brand that was present at the creation myth (Disneyland) of the entire industry gave you immense value.

The value helped the company coast through a decade or two in a state of inefficiency.  This was the beginning of when I began to realize things about companies.  Like the fact that a larger a company gets, the more latitude there is for inefficiency.  Again, companies are groups of people.  Is it harder to kill 2 people working out of a garage or a band of 100?  Probability-wise, unless you’re a company like Instagram, I’m choosing the latter.

A brand markets for you while you sleep.  A brand allows you to charge hundreds of percent premiums.  A brand allows you to coast and smoothes over suboptimal product quality – although you shouldn’t do this.  But always do try to build a brand.

But, probably because of its brand, the company had become complacent.  Some of the analyses were trash, frankly speaking.  Some of the partners had checked out, a long, long time ago.

And maybe that was the biggest lesson of all for me.  And when I think about it, it’s perhaps the real underlying reason I left – seeing that complacency in a lot of the people, I realized it’s not what or where I wanted to be.

A Real Estate Career: Lessons Learned (2006)

After about a year at the brokerage, I moved across the courtyard of our office-industrial complex to a smaller shop where I became a monk at the temple of Excel.

In retrospect, before I left, I should have tried to become an agent and at least do a deal or two and actually deeply understand everything from the lead stage to closing.  I understood it better than most, but not as much as I could have.

But I didn’t do these things.

It’s hard to articulate my thinking at the time.  I was naive and arrogant/blind.  I mentioned before that because of the tremendous amount of money some were making, they either felt guilty or like it wasn’t theirs.

For me, looking at the tremendous amount of money others were making, sometimes working 5 hours a week, it gave me the impression that money was abundant, and that to earn it required little skill, and more like random optionality and knowing the right people.

I also should have tried to learn more from the actual hard-workers in the office, like my boss Greg.  But partly because he was never in, and partly because I was arrogant and blind, I didn’t.

So now officially, I became an analyst at Del Mar Equity Partners, a TIC sponsor.  This means nothing to anyone outside of real estate, but it suffices to say we were basically an investor looking for good deals, and syndicating them out to a range of other investors.  Like doing a group-buy of real estate.  And making some money in the process for being the originator.

In practical terms, this meant I moved from an office of a group of 15 young hooligans doing eating competitions, boxing matches, arm-wrestling and push-up tournaments everyday, to a sedate environment where I worked with only two other people – my boss, Martin, and an administrative assistant.

This provided much less pandemonium, and less time devoted to psychological analysis of extreme humans, but things were no less entertaining.

Since agents and brokers around the country knew we were a source of capital, we got bombarded with deals.

Some of these deals showed up unsolicited in the mailbox in the form of postcards and too-good-to-be-true brochures.  Others showed up in my inbox, with rent rolls attached and scarcely any explanation to them.  Some of these deals made sense.

Others did not, like deals where you were supposed to invest, and you got no money or any return for a few years, and then at the end you got an unspecified return on the appreciation of the property.  Like a zero-coupon bond.  Except even riskier, and again, no guarantees on what your principal was worth at the end.

And sometimes people called.  Sometimes I would get calls from guys who sounded like they were working in boiler rooms.  Some guy with a wiseguy accent would call and ask me if I wanted to hear about an opportunity.  Then if I said yes, he would ask me if I was ready, if I really wanted to hear about the opportunity, if I was really ready or not.  It sounded like these fluffers were trying to get me to stay on the line until they called the real closer over, but I never stayed on the line.

Anyway, for the next six months, I became a master technician of Excel.  Not a master real estate analyst, understand: a master technician.  More on this later.

My job was to model out the deals we were getting pitched.  This meant I had to model a few dozen a week.  Now looking back at it, I spent those months doing what I thought at the time was ‘analysis’: filtering dozens of deals a day, modeling them, and recommending the ones that ended up with good returns.

But what I was actually getting good at was not analysis, nor real estate evaluation.  It was Excel.  Partly because of the sheer volume of deals, and partly because of the sheer time I was spending with the program, I became obsessed with Excel itself.

I started slowly by implementing functions like dynamic rent bumps, and probabilistic Monte Carlo simulations on rents when the leases rolled over.  I implemented arrays and quintuple nested functions referring to INDIRECT and OFFSET cells.  I had macros that pulled in information from demographic sources to update assumptions.

It had become my goal to model the behavior and performance of a building, to recreate it in a small file sitting on my laptop.

This wasn’t analysis at all, and this Excel work itself didn’t actually help me become a better investor.  What I was doing was ascribing Excel with an intelligence it didn’t have, and hoping to imbue this construct with decision-making and analytical capabilities.  It was intellectual laziness, in a way.

If I could have this period back again, I would: conduct more interviews, do actual on-the-ground research, talk to owners, brokers, shopowners down the street from the building, in the name of articulating a thesis on different markets/types, and then test these theses continuously.

What I’ve realized ever since, is that in real estate, doing an initial filter on a deal is not some arcane exercise of testing 100 different assumptions.

It’s an exercise in evaluating maybe 5 core ones, like cap rate, rents, growth, supply, and expenses.  A good investor will probably only spend five minutes on the back of an envelope filtering a deal, and if it passes, then spending 95% of the time testing these core assumptions with research.

I didn’t know any of this yet.  I didn’t have a filter system so I was looking at every deal like it was some sort of abstruse puzzle that could only be unlocked with my magical tool, Excel.

What I was lacking was critical thinking, big picture thinking, and thinking from first principles.  Anyone can learn or be taught to become a technician.  Becoming an actual analyst requires you to think.

I didn’t know how to think yet.  I didn’t have a view of the analysis I should be doing, and because I thought that just “doing Excel” was the whole job, I was bored, frankly speaking.

And so I left this job too, six months after joining.  We did two deals when I was there, out of the hundreds I had scoured.  In retrospect, that’s a lot for six months.  But in my naivete, I thought it was too little.

Also, one of the deals was literally nothing more than an off-market property that we flipped within a few months, sight-unseen.  This deal just about sums up both my experience there and the spirit of the time.

I left because in a sense, I thought there was no more growth opportunity for me.  And I believed it for a while.  Only in recent years have I realized it couldn’t be further from the truth.

In any kind of job, there is a wide range of ‘winging it’.  Because I had only worked at small companies and everyone kind of did everything, I thought (at the time) that this prevented me from falling into a ‘winging it’ mentality.  After all, I did what was assigned to me and did it well.  But I was still in a lazy zone.

In any job, there is a level of performing the job that is beyond just doing the job.  This level is thinking like an owner, like you have something at stake.  Thinking like an owner will open your eyes to new opportunities, because you’ll understand the opportunities and constraints, and how decisions are made.

In the years since I’ve worked these first two jobs, I’ve come to believe that unless you start thinking like an owner, you have no real knowledge about your business or industry.

And the way you know whether you’ve grown as far as you can grow in a job is, can you do the owner’s job?  For me, the answer was no, for both jobs.  Therefore I hadn’t tapped out my growth potential.

But back then, I didn’t realize any of this yet.

I quit and for a time I was jobless.  And a little directionless.

I interviewed at a surf company.  I remember walking into their Orange County office in business casual and drawing stares, because everyone else was in t-shirts and shorts.  Talk about a game theoretic exercise: do you dress down for a job interview at a surf company, potentially disrespecting the interviewer, or do you dress up, and run the risk of looking clueless?

Anyway, I didn’t get the job, but the interviewer did give me a new wetsuit as a sort of compensatory prize.  It was a little small for me but thicker than my existing one, and better for winter surfing.

Now we were in the summer of 2006.  After a few months, I was going to be in for a real treat.

A Real Estate Career: Lessons Learned (2004-2005)

I graduated from Penn in 2004.  I had no job or any prospects to speak of, so I moved back home to LA after spending a summer in Philadelphia fruitlessly looking for a job.

Back home, I saw that the majority of my high school class had become loan brokers at names like New Century Financial, Countrywide, and Washington Mutual.

I grew up in the San Gabriel Valley, which among other things was famous for suburban pot farms, and I also noticed that a not-insignificant percentage of my high school class had gone in the marijuana business.

One guy I knew from high school told me point blank that he liked the mortgage business because it “was like drug-dealing: you give people a fix, and they keep coming back for more.  They can’t resist.”  I remember that he used to drug deal in high school, too.  I guess he had chosen the more lucrative route.

It’s hard to express the sentiment of that time.  Everyone was getting rich off real estate.

I remember the fact that some of my friends who hadn’t even gone to college, were giving no down payment loans to people and making $20,000 a month, did give me pause about how the world wasn’t the way I had learned it to be.

But I liked the idea of real estate because it was tangible.  My senior year at Penn, I had interned for the largest campus housing landlord, and they all seemed like a bunch of easy-going, Philly wiseguys.  I liked that.

When you graduate from Wharton, half the class goes into banking.  I heard stories about how you worked 120 hours a week in banking.  And I didn’t like that.

And with a lack of prospects, no interviews, and no jobs to speak of, I made the decision to go into real estate.

At first, I thought I might like going into the public sector.  I interned at Senator Feinstein’s office in San Diego and researched the economic impact of military bases.  The internship paid no money, so I worked as a picker in a t-shirt factory part-time.  In the other remaining time, I surfed.

But most importantly, I rented a room from a woman, who I’ll call Lucy, who had no discernible job.

My lasting memory of her was of her sitting on a couch, eating ice cream, and watching tv – both when I left for work, and also when I came home.  And it was during one of her ice cream-eating sessions that we struck up a conversation and she mentioned to me that she was in real estate.

When I asked what she did, she said she bought houses.  She had three already, she said.  It was so easy, she said.  She was planning to buy a few more.  Because all you had to do was take out loans and wait for the prices to go up.  In fact, her agent was one of her best friends and later moved in to my room when I moved out.

Midway through the internship, I decided that the public sector was not as fast or impactful as I had imagined.  I wanted to see some action.

So, I applied for a job at Marcus and Millichap, the real estate brokerage.  Almost immediately, I was invited to an info session where I was witness to a presentation that should be enshrined somewhere in the historical annals.

My lasting memory from that presentation was towards the end when the agent put up a slide.

The slide was a grid whose rows were Years 1-5, and whose 3 or 4 columns represented duds, high performers, and rockstars.  In the cells were numbers that represented the incomes that each of these categories of people in the world, stood to make at Marcus and Millichap.

I noticed that the duds started at $80,000 and climbed their way north of six figures in the second year.  The rockstars started in the mid-six figures and were making millions by year three.

These numbers all sounded great, and I decided to sign up.  But there was a catch.  Unfortunately, they said, the job was commission-only so they recommended that you have a savings fund of at least six months to live off of, while you “learned”.

This sounded a lot like school, so I passed on that opportunity and told myself the numbers were probably all fake, anyway.

I moved up from San Diego and stayed with a friend who was in his final year at UCLA.  There, while looking for jobs, I opened the newspaper and spotted a posting with Marcus and Millichap in the El Segundo office.  It was paid.

That paragraph makes me sound ancient, but trust me, there were online job posts and applications back in 2004 too.  Maybe it was dying out, but still.  That’s just how things happened.

I interviewed and got the job.  My salary, if you can call it that, was $12/hour with no benefits, and my job was to maintain the internal database.

At the end of 2004 and during 2005, money was falling from the sky.  And that’s what the theme of those years was: money.  Money, so much of it, that numbers became meaningless.  Hundreds of thousands, millions, and NBA superstar money, being earned by agents in their 20s and early 30s for essentially, making phone calls.

And before you get the wrong idea, the money wasn’t going into my pockets.  I was still at $12/hr.  I was poor enough and without benefits that sometimes in restaurants, if people at the tables next to me left food untouched, I would eat it.  Sometimes after they left, and other times I asked nicely.

My job at the Harris Group of Marcus and Millichap was to maintain and ensure the integrity of the database of leads.  This meant a lot of searching online through other databases to validate information.  It was boring, so I quickly asked for other things to do.

And so over the next year, while helping maintain that database, I also helped underwrite and package deals totaling maybe more than a billion dollars in nominal value.

For a long time afterwards, this entire experience working on the “sell-side”, so to speak, at a real estate brokerage, made me skeptical almost to the point of cynical, about actually investing in real estate.

In my naivete, I first thought that the prices we were going to sell buildings for, were what they were worth.  So I pored over rent rolls and looked up market averages for rates and prices.  What I learned instead, what that there is no such thing as anything actually being ‘worth’ anything.  The sales price is what a broker wants to sell it for, and all the numbers surrounding it are the supporting props that have been artfully arranged to convince you that this price is the right and true one.

And if you think the price is too high, based on the market comps, you are entitled to your opinion, and may be mathematically correct – but if someone else comes by, who is using a tax advantaged scheme to roll out of a previous property and is under a time crunch to park their funds in something else and so snatches up this expensive property, at or higher than listing price because of a false perception that they are competing, then…what was it actually worth?  Who’s right?  You or them?

On our packages, we sometimes photoshopped gangsters out of the roof of some of our building photos, and photoshopped luxury cars into the streets in front of them.  And sometimes I would discover mistakes I had made in the modeling, much later – and it didn’t matter, because the deals had already sold anyway with the buyers scarcely looking at the cash flow.

During a bubble, money becomes divorced from the effort required to earn it.  In our office, there were agents who worked an average of two hours a day, three days a week.  There was one who was making a million dollars a year from having landed a single big-time client on a lucky phone call.  And sometimes these agents would go into the offices of the harder-working agents and steal leads off their desks and make six figure commissions.

Even though my job was to maintain a database of leads, that last reason is why sometimes people sabotaged my work by trying to pay me on the side to not do my job, or to give them contact information for their own use.  In reality, not many people wanted me to share the hard-won contact information for potential leads across the whole office.  They wanted it for themselves.  This is when I learned about misalignment of incentives.

I don’t want to give the impression that no one in the office worked.  The Harris Group was named after Greg Harris, who was and probably still is, a legendary superagent.  Greg’s stare was of the laser beams shooting out of his eyeballs variety, and he was always on the phone, always in that rapid-fire staccato voice that hammered poor clients down out of their illusions of paying less for a building than it was ‘worth’.

One of my lasting impressions of Greg is a time I walked into the men’s room and saw, under the stall doors, someone sitting on the toilet with pants around his ankles, doing a real estate deal at full volume.  It was Greg.

His work ethic was legendary, and when he was first starting out, I heard he hired interns even younger than he was to drive him from his home to the office at 4 am – no one else was up at that time, except the elderly landlords and investors who he would be calling, and who would remember that he had been the first to call them that day.

And this is also when I learned about money.  They say money makes you more of what you already are.  That is true.

I also think money, in some deep way, also reveals your deepest held beliefs.

The agents in our office were split into two camps.  The ones who worked two hours a day, bought nice cars and homes, partied mid-week in Ibiza and Miami, and had no compunction or even deep thought about living through a bubble of historical proportions.

We had other agents who made just as much money but who were deeply terrified of the state of the world and felt that something was deeply, utterly wrong, and sought to serve penance for it, in a way, by working even harder.  These agents, I think, sometimes felt guilty.  Like when they did deals that caused market rents for an entire town to double.

But if I really think about it, the two camps weren’t so different, fundamentally.  The first camp spent their money as soon as it came in, like they were laundering it.  Perhaps from feeling like it wasn’t really theirs.

During this job, I also learned about the power of sales.  Selling is storytelling, and sales is an art form that needs to be taught in school, because the basis of our shared reality as humans exists as a series of beliefs and stories.

I learned that during a bubble, the best salesmen are the people who deliver their message with absolute conviction, no matter how outrageous it is.

Actually, the more outrageous, the better to catch your attention.  Because during times like that, peoples’ beliefs are being tested.  And during periods when peoples’ beliefs are being tested, they want to listen to people who sound like prophets.

At the time, real estate cap rates of 4-5%, even on trophy properties, were considered unbelievably low.  And sales prices of $200,000/unit on multifamily residential were considered high.  In any case, the actual figures don’t really matter.

What matters is that the best agents in our office were the ones who could talk about cap rates of 4% and prices of $250,000/door as if they were universal constants like e or pi – and often, I noticed, the less the agent actually knew about market conditions, the lower his doubt, so the higher his conviction, the higher his credibility, and the higher his closing rate.

Meanwhile, those who overanalyzed (like me), stood by in disbelief.  In times like those, the best storytellers don’t even need a firm grasp of English.  Just belief.

And my last point is that when you’ve worked around people in real estate for a long time, you’ll pick up a pattern of speaking.

This pattern of speaking is whereby crazy claims are stated boldly as to make others doubt, waver, to ultimately put them at a disadvantage.  This is a variation of the anchoring effect/bias.

This technique absolutely ravages weak souls, conciliatory/nice people, and those who are unsure of themselves.  Let’s say you’re trying to sell me a car and we meet, go through the pleasantries, and after I look at your car, the first thing I say at the top of my lungs is that I’m going to offer 20% of your list price for it because the bumpers of your car model cause cancer.

Now if you’re inured to this type of speaking then you’ll just shake your head no or tell me to GTFO.

But if you’re a nice person, or out of practice with this type of aggression, you’ll start doubting yourself.  Your initial reaction to the 20% was shock and disbelief, but you’ll start thinking…maybe I did price it too high.  Your initial reaction to the cancer claim was the same, but now you’re thinking about it – maybe the metal or the paint in it does cause cancer, but the incidence of cancers from bumpers is very, very low.  What you’ll do is start to explain this it depth and try to argue it logically.  Now you’ve lost because you’re playing my game.

You’ll try to bring reason into, and analyze/dissect a fundamentally illogical and absurd claim.  Congratulations, you’ve lost.  The discussion will go into the finer points of airborne carcinogens and colors – and you’re in a hole because you’re tacitly implying there may be some truth to the cancer claim instead of making ground in the other direction.  And with the doubt of the price lingering over your head, the price will slowly creep down to my target.

I mention all this because this was the prevailing way we all talked to each other in the office, whether discussing foods, sports, real estate, or even pets, the latter of which actually led some people to start believing that such a thing as a pig-dog (a cross between a pig and a dog), existed.  And this is the way of speaking that during a bubble, or times of distortion and change, lead people to believe insane things, like that prices will keep going up forever.

The only way to counter this technique is to: a) recognize it immediately, and either b) counter with an equally insane, but opposite claim so the discussion grounds still stay somewhere in the middle, or c) drop it and walk away.

I also note that our current president (who is a real estate guy, by the way) has taken this technique all the way to the top.  He says outlandish things and has the other side/media actually take it seriously and try to refute his claims by logic.  If you do that, you start playing the other person’s game so you’ve lost.

As I see it now, the Democrats seem to have stopped their full-fledged losing campaign, and moved from c) the outraged dismissal phase, to b) full communism.

Wrong End of a Telescope

Multiple times during my early twenties, I tried to destroy all remnants of my past.

I purged emails, I tossed journals and letters, burned pictures.  This was usually after great disappointment, during periods when I learned that life was not going to follow my Grand Script.

During these times, I wanted to change everything about myself, because I didn’t like the person I had become.  But now I regret it, and I would urge any person of any age to keep a journal.

There are lots of reasons to keep one.  It’ll remind you of the person you once were.  In recent years I’ve been searching for who I was at 20, 25, even 30.  It’ll remind you of why you made certain decisions – so you can make better ones in the future.  It’ll keep you honest, even if you sometimes don’t like the memories.

Another important reason is it’ll give you hope for the future – because of how much things change, and that in many ways, the present is beyond the wildest imaginings of our past selves.

At some point for everyone, you’ll wake up one day and feel old.  This has officially happened to me in the last few months.  There’s a lot to this I’ll discuss later.  But in the meantime I’ve been doing a little reminiscing…

  • In my elementary school during the ’80s, I remember having emergency nuclear war drills.  They were kind of like earthquake drills, where you had to crawl under your desk.  In the event of a war with the USSR, who I always remember was this weird figment of an enemy, imbuing things with a malaise I couldn’t quite name.
  • In elementary through high school during the ’90s, there were gangs everywhere and you couldn’t wear certain colors: red, blue.  In elementary school I remember it was a little more strict, and there were even more colors like purple and black, because some of the gangs wore Raiders gear.  I remember our sixth grade teacher telling us all these salacious stories of older kids murdering each other in terrible ways.  Those older kids, to me now, are just kids.  I remember going through junior high and high school always with a low level of terror about getting jumped or tailed somewhere and jumped because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I remember some kids I know getting stabbed, shot, hit with baseball bats, going to jail, overdosing, etc.
  • I remember as a kid not having to wear seatbelts, and falling asleep standing up in the center back seat.
  • I also remember the seatbelt law taking effect in LA, and hating it, as I chafed and sweated under it.
  • I remember when I was a toddler, my dad telling me to wait outside a liquor store as he went in and bought something.  I was 3, and this was Koreatown, LA.
  • I remember living in that neighborhood, on Mariposa, and hearing gunshots all the time – pop, pop, pop – and being terrified whenever my dad went jogging.
  • I remember on flights there being a ‘smoking’ section, and hating having to fly to see family because where there were smoking sections, there is no such thing as the ‘non-smoking’ section.  I remember smoking sections in restaurants too.  How idiotic.
  • I remember that growing up, in our home, the phone line was the scarcest resource.  Not only did my sister and I spend hours talking to friends on it, it was also the only way to log onto AOL – and the internet.
  • I remember first using the internet and chatting with people.  I remember distinctly feeling like the access to information was changing my brain.  There was a point, as I chatted on AIM and surfed the internet at the same time, that I remember thinking that my old ways of writing letters by hand, of doing research using encyclopaedias, taking notes, etc., were gone and had been erased.
  • I remember some of my closest friends getting suspended or expelled for having marijuana at school.  Now it’s almost banal.  I remember when dealing was a lucrative and highly illegal trade, and sometimes there were kids who all of a sudden came to school with nice cars, dropped with rims and insane stereo systems that would pop your eardrums out, new jewellery, all from this trade.
  • I remember when Facebook first came out, and my friends and I being confused about what social network to go all-in on: Myspace, Friendster, Facebook.  It was too much trouble trying to update all three at the same time.
  • I remember learning, in the supposed best business school in the world, about the neat way that interest rates and the economy were managed by the Fed, about neat formulas on how to value things, about supply and demand curves, and a lot of discussion on Japan, and nothing on China.  Right now I use almost nothing I learned there, except accounting.
  • I remember 2001 when the planes hit the WTC, I was in finance class and a kid ran in and shouted that a plane had taken out one of the towers.  Blankly, the professor looked at him and kept talking.  Some kids shuffled out.  Later, I turned on the tv and watched the smoke billowing out of the tower, thinking it was surreal.  But classes still went on.
  • A few months later, after a rash of suicides, a malaise settled over campus and I remember a group of my friends sitting in my dorm, all talking.  The two girls huddled next to me were my friends who I regarded/regard as sisters.  I remember the service guys coming in to install unopenable windows to prevent the aforementioned suicides, seeing me in particular, chuckling, and saying that they wished they were still in college.  I didn’t think of it as any big deal, but now I know what they meant 🙂
  • At my graduation, I remember seeing a fairly big celebrity who happened to be the father of one of my classmates, as he posed for pictures in front of Huntsman Hall.  Who would have thought he would be our current president.
  • I remember the real estate bubble.  When I returned home after graduating college, all my friends were either loan officers in Orange County or directly/indirectly involved in the marijuana trade.  I remember when LA/South Bay/Westside buildings used to trade for 6-8% cap rates and the astonishment in our office when things traded at 4-5% because it was “expensive”.
  • 12 years ago when I started my first job, I remember spending a lot of downtime downloading videos from all over the internet for my colleagues’ amusement.  I remember Youtube coming out, and thinking it would fail because it had none of the videos we wanted to watch.
  • 11 years ago I remember looking at my friend’s iPhone and feeling that the world had changed.  This is an appropriate time to use the phrase mind blown, because it is one of the few times in my life I actually felt this.  The time before that was the internet.
  • I remember taking my first international business class flight around this time and thinking it was so cool, feeling smug and satisfied, and wishing that flying around the world could be my job.  Now I hate traveling.
  • 10 years ago I used to drive 40-50 minutes to travel 3 miles to work.  If I still had to do that hellhole of a commute again, I would Uber.
  • 8 years ago I remember in Silicon Valley, thinking that my bschool classmates who wanted to go work for Twitter and Zynga and companies like that were making a crazy choice.  I remember Uber first coming out and thinking it was the dumbest thing I had ever heard of.

I wish I had kept a journal.  Keeping one is probably one of the best habits I could have had.

Besides that, I’m positive that the next 10 to 20 years will be beyond anything we’ve ever imagined.  In a good way.

What Jiu-Jitsu Teaches You About Life (Part I)

Some notes from a white belt.  More to follow from the journey.

I find core concepts in BJJ readily translatable to my daily life.  Here are some of the core ones.

There’s time, don’t panic

When you’re first starting out, every guard pass, every mount, side control, beginning of a choke or other submission, even a hand on a lapel, however loose and untechnical, is reason to panic.

You just don’t have the ability to distinguish tight, real attacks from wrong ones.  What I’ve learned so far in this particular journey, above all, is the value in cultivating clarity.  And you can only have clarity when you don’t panic.

This is a general life lesson applicable to all activities and practices like investing or business.  You can work for a day in a state of heightened anxiety and get less done than an hour of complete clarity.  This is another way of saying work smart, not hard.  Although both is better.

Staying calm gives you room to think, and it’s often the case in BJJ that you have a lot more time than you think.  It’s when you’re spazzing or panicking that you make yourself more prone to random attacks and armbars.

There are situations in jiujitsu where nothing but technique will get you out of it.  And a methodologically executed action, even if slower, is superior to doing things at random.

Cultivate mental clarity above all else.

Attack/defend the center

You realize this doing most other sports, but still.  The core is your literal and metaphorical center.  Your escapes emanate from your core.  Your core is your hips and ass, and move your core, and every other part of your body follows.  Leave your core exposed and under the control of your opponent, and there’s little you can do.  Move the core to escape, control the core of an opponent to control them.

This may be common sense, but I find it amazing how there are parallels with this in every physical activity I know.  In weightlifting, your clean/snatch power emanates from your legs and back.  In muay thai, your kicks emanate from the torque and power of your hips and core.  Calisthenics, gymnastics, surfing, everything.  Lifting something off the ground.

In most activities in life, there’s the meat, the priority, the 1-2 core things that obviate or solve all the secondary issues.  This is true in executive decision-making, investing, event planning, even baby-rearing 🙂

Everyone has core values, a core rhythm or pattern to their day, core components of happiness, etc.  Throw these off even for a day and it’s easy to become disoriented, that’s how important it is.  Preserve and protect your core.

Don’t take things head-on, approach things laterally

Both submissions and escapes only happen because you move your own, or your opponent’s limbs in a path outside of the typical range of motion.

It’s hard to throw or sweep an opponent that is digging in.  Same with a submission.  But this rigidity along a particular angle opens up opportunities to throw or attack them, usually perpendicularly or outside the normal range of motion.

This is a good reminder for any type of activity.

Technique beats raw strength

A practiced, 120-lb woman can submit a savage 200-lb bodybuilder.  A nimble company can disrupt a conglomerate with an order of magnitude more resources.  A dozen hackers can throw an election of another sovereign nation.

Attack, not withdraw

Defense doesn’t win, only action and aggression wins.  In my first few months of jiujitsu, all I did was try to pull out of closed guards and escape submissions.  It made me better at escaping, but did nothing in terms of helping me win.

My instructor’s constant admonishment was that instead of my constant withdrawals, I needed to get in closer.

BJJ is the opposite of striking arts in this respect, in that you can’t defeat someone from a distance.  You have to be in close, committed, in the game.

Whatever game you’re playing, if you’re playing the game, play to win, you can’t be halfhearted, you can’t be withdrawn.  If you play to not lose, you will actually lose.

Trust the process/muscle memory

For the first few months; actually, even now, I can barely register perceptible improvement.

The process, according to my instructor, was to show up and roll on a consistent basis.  And after being on the receiving end of what seemed like magical attacks, I was ready to trust whatever he said.

It’s only after a few months where I began getting submitted much less, and actually submitting others, that I realized that my subconscious was stronger than I knew.

This is scientific fact, by the way, the power of the subconscious.

Don’t be rigid

Being rigid makes you prone to takedowns, sweeps, throws.  Rigid arms are targets for armbars, and rigid game plans make you predictable and easily defeated.  There is a time for rigidity and raw strength, but this must be interspersed with absolute flexibility.

A relaxed body is harder to lift than a tense one, a flexible plan of attack that counters counters, will win against a one-trick opponent.

Be humble

Losing, in a physical activity, to a 13-year old kid 30 pounds lighter than you, is enough to humble you.  But also, you’ll realize that everyone gets caught.  Everyone.

The first principle and this one might be the most important of all.

Things I’ve Learned as a Consultant – Part II

  • As an extension of the last point of the last post, when you’re in professional services, whether banking, law, design, consulting, whatever, you’re trying to sell someone something that there are no physical results of. And sometimes, not even precedents. You’re saying ‘trust us’. So how do you build that trust? A brand goes a long way.
  • But having been on both sides of this — the salesman and the person doing the contracting/hiring, I believe the absolute best thing that will help you nail the pitch, without question, is a sample. Samples are the strongest test, for the simple fact that having something that addresses the requirements perfectly makes you impossible to ignore. This not only makes them know you are capable of doing the job, but that you’ve listened. It is a rare client that knows 100% exactly what he or she wants before the service has started, because as I’ve written in the previous post, clients engage you based on a dark nebula of capabilities they imagine you can do. In the beginning, it is important for them to know that you are responsive, that you can react to their feedback.
  • But I cannot stress this enough: “Let em test the product, give em a promo show/Just a breeze, not enough to catch a real vibe/Then we drop a maxi single and charge em two for five/Ain’t tryin to, kill em at first just, buildin clientele/So when the album drops the first weeks it’s gon’ sell” — Jay-Z (Rap Game/Crack Game)
  • The reason is that if you have a sample or a pitch that addresses their requirements, it will cause them anguish if they have to pick someone over you. It will cause them to justify their own metrics. You will be remembered.
  • If you are in a profession that does not allow you to provide a work sample, just be aware that a buyer of services, especially if they are purchasing a particular service for the first time, will latch onto other things (attribute substitution). For example, how polished of a speaker are you? Do you buckle under pressure? Do they like you? Do you have the proper gravitas? Are you older, do you have a few grey hairs? Many of them are unfair and irrelevant, but this is what happens, so it helps to be aware.
  • Related to that last point, there are people in the consulting business who dye their hair grey and wear glasses in order to appear older and more experienced. Just saying. When you’re a bright young person it’s easy to become disillusioned about this. But if you encounter this situation, it is better to step back. What is it really telling you? That as much as you think clients are paying for the actual insight, they’re paying for reassurance. They are buying the brand.
  • The higher your fee, and the longer you take, the higher the expectations of your client. They will grow. And grow. It is better to program in interim deliverables to anchor their expectations early and allow for feedback. This is as a result of differing perceptions of time between those in the flow of doing work, and those waiting for something.
  • But curiously, even if you are able to finish something ahead of schedule, having any extra time left leads to doubts. You’ll check and recheck your work. Due to Parkinson’s law, the project has a good chance of actually always ending up taking the amount of time allotted to it.
  • Everything is about good communication. It’s not just about having the facts or a superior product. You can have a superior product and still lose the pitch, you can have all the facts and insights but fail to engender understanding. And you can have titular authority in your firm, but fail in managing or marshaling the resources of the people under you. Good communication includes soft skills, connecting with people, speaking with enthusiasm, being authentic, etc.
  • Smaller clients are good because often you work directly with the person who is both the decision-maker and stakeholder in the service. But smaller clients have less to lose when they try to negotiate your fee — down — after you’ve already performed. They can also be demanding, and your interactions will be subject to the whims of the person buying your service, who is often the same person writing your check. Big clients will often have no problem paying you, but because the stakeholders, decision-makers, and people you are interacting with can be three different sets of people, the layers of hierarchy and management can lead to confusion, delays, conflicting directives, which ultimately means, more time spent on it and more work for you.
  • Since consulting is the business of selling brains, the necessary conclusion to this premise is that the better the brains perform within a given length of time, the more value you can capture, and the less costs you incur. Research has shown that cognitive thinking is a physiological process, meaning it’s another body function regulated by energy levels. Keep up your energy levels and you have the potential for longer periods of higher thought. Exercise, meditate, eat right. This cannot be stressed enough, and goes back to the athletic component of traveling for consulting.

Things I’ve Learned as a Consultant

  • As in any other job, being good at the job is a process, not an outcome. Pursuit of the frontiers of the field, a focus on incorporating new ideas, relentless introspection and feedback, hard work, and constant improvement of technical skills will help you stay ahead.
  • Identifying and improving the necessary technical skills was the easy part. Merely recognizing what the other necessary skills were, like salesmanship, self-discipline, introspection, hard work, was harder, and it was hard to miss that I didn’t even have them.
  • Consulting is a lifestyle choice. This is not only when it comes to travel, although that is a significant portion of it. The consulting lifestyle revolves around the project lifecycle. It starts with the pitch and sale, moves onto research and analysis, and concludes with presentation and feedback and iteration — with different required skills in each portion of the cycle.
  • When extensive travel is required across multiple time zones, being good contains a physical, athletic aspect to it as well. Maintaining clarity of thought, focus, and polished communication skills when I am physically in a meeting with a client while my biological clock is deep in an REM cycle, is as physically demanding as being in minute 32 of an intensive Muay Thai workout.
  • There is another, longer cycle, which is the lifecycle of a consultant himself or herself. As an entry-level person, you are primarily engaged in research, analysis, report preparation. As you progress out of the back office (figuratively speaking) and into more of a client-facing role, you are called on to do more meetings, pitches, presentations, face-to-face communications with the client. Before you know it, your job is no longer research and analysis; it turns into that of a representative, salesman, and manager of the younger versions of you. As with the project-cycle, different skills are required at different points in the cycle.
  • There are several things about the nature of the job itself. First, a consultant is a paid outsider, so that no matter how convincing you are, nor how much you know, you have no inherent power to actually implement your ideas. Clients can and will ignore your advice. This can be demoralizing.
  • Another important thing about the nature of the job itself is that that you’re in the business of selling time — your time, which is finite. Consulting is the business of selling your capabilities to achieve a recommendation, insight, or strategy, which in itself is the product of human minds working in real-time. If that sounds vague, that’s because it is. And because what you’re selling is so undefined, there is naturally a huge variability to it, regarding both the actual product and your client’s expectations. Managing both of these things becomes a huge drain on resources and time. Clients will, almost as a rule, demand that you do anything and everything for them that they’ve seen you do, read about you doing, heard about you doing, and imagine that you can do.
  • Because of this variability (also known as customization), scaling a consulting practice is difficult. Consulting is the business of leasing a limited portion of human brainpower for a limited period of time to accomplish a task. Unless the human brains in your employ can be programmed to think faster and more effectively at the same time, increasing the productivity of the fundamental resource (brains) has natural limits.
  • But scaling can be done, and in order to do so, the metric that I find natural and easy to focus on is the implied professional fee that is being charged to the client. This can be done in almost any service industry: think about what you’re charging the client in terms of an implied per hour cost. Take your fee and divide it by the number of hours you or your people will work. Whether it is $100, $200, $500, $1000+, the principle is the same.
  • If you want to scale and grow, you need to ruthlessly outsource tasks that can be performed at an equivalent level to those with the lowest rate. If your rate is $500/hour, does it make sense for you to be doing document preparation or formatting that you can pay $15 to $20/hour for? Or even to be maintaining a model yourself? The argument to this is that by removing yourself from the work, the overall work will lose quality. As a thought experiment, does a film lose quality because a director is not doing the cinematography or acting himself? This is a big problem in small consulting companies where everyone is expected to do everything. My experience has suggested to me that this is immensely inefficient.
  • Merely going through this exercise will force you to develop systems, templates, methods, and training, which will increase the productivity of the entire team. Another issue at play here is the sheer economics of batch tasking and the costs of switching. Switching tasks incurs mental and thus temporal costs. Even if, theoretically, there were a ‘superstar’ consultant who could do each of 5 individual tasks at a superior rate than anyone else in the organization, this person may still be slower to complete the entire ‘set’ of tasks than 5 different people specializing in those tasks, because of the switching costs.
  • This is the kind of issue you deal with as you make the transition from entry-level positions to higher ones, and you’ll have to abandon old habits and gain new ones. This is the kind of struggle you experience at any professional services firm. Where you go from being a person who produces work, to the one who guides and oversees it, and then finally who ‘manages’ and sells it. You remove yourself from the work that you were originally hired to do, and you need to develop new skills to adapt.
  • It may very well be the case that you are content with the level of sales and work-to-reward ratio you are experiencing. Then none of this applies. But in a changing world, stagnation is by definition a regression. To even keep up, we must keep growing and optimizing.
  • More on people — who as brain-carriers, are a consulting firm’s primary asset, as the saying goes. Programmers talk about the 10x programmer, and to a certain extent I believe this is true of people in any service-oriented industry. Performance conforms to a distribution with fat tails on either end. 80% of the people are in the middle, which does not imply mediocre. It just means everyone is clustered there. Then there are the 1–5% who are outliers in either direction. Alternatively, if you think about the 80/20 rule, it is saying that a sufficing level of work, the 80%, is easy to achieve. This is the equivalent to getting a solid B in a bell-curve weighted class. I hated this system in college, by the way. But the 20% is the spread field, where you distinguish yourself from others. It’s a wide open field. 20% is the details, and this is where people differentiate themselves by adding more value than others.
  • Think of it this way. Say you hire a painter to paint your walls. Both cover the walls in paint, but one of them pays attention to the details. He covers your existing furniture, he pays attention to the finishes, making sure the edges and corners are perfect, nothing is smudged, no glue is on the ground, nothing has been broken, making sure there is absolutely no blemish anywhere, everywhere. Conscientiousness and care go a long way in differentiating yourself from the pack. To use a consulting example, at the analyst level, this would be someone who works faster and harder than others, builds new frameworks and approaches, even while paying attention to formatting and presentation, to typos, wording, someone who builds models that can be easily followed by others, someone who integrates frameworks located across different sources, someone who doesn’t hard-code inputs in Excel, etc.
  • All of the above is in the name of widening the gap between implied hours charged for, and hours actually worked. The other way to do this, obviously, is by increasing the number of implied hours charged for; i.e. charging more. The easiest thing to envision, in theory, is the hardest to pull off, and this is to develop a truly unique skill. A moat skill, a monopoly skill, one that no one else has. As in the story of the repairman and the hammer. When you develop a skill like this, you can charge whatever you want. But this is incredibly difficult to do.
  • The more realistic thing that can be done is develop a brand and a reputation for good work. A brand is something that does marketing for you even while you sleep. A brand helps you charge more for work of an equivalent quality, because in consulting, the hardest thing to realize is that people are not buying the service itself — they are buying the reassurance. This is why lawyers can get paid even when there is a risk of losing, and consultants can get paid when there is the clear possibility of finding nothing new. This relates back to the old saying that consultants are in the business of using the client’s watch and getting paid to tell them what time it is. But people hire them anyway.