This got me thinking, how many Steve Jobs does the world need?
You can imagine that if everyone in the world was like Steve, neurotic eccentric visionaries, the world wouldn’t function so well. For every Steve, there needs to be many, many Frank Smiths who do as they are told, obedient workers who get things done.
Of course the degree of “visionary-ness” is not binary, it’s a sliding scale where some people are crazy visionary while others are not so much. There are other traits that determine one’s ability to succeed and/or be of value to society.
While arguable, my mental model tells me that leaders and those who are higher in the organizational pyramid need to be more visionaries. If a Walmart clerk is a visionary, he or she really needs to be in a position to exert more influence.
So what’s the appropriate ratio between the Steves and Frank Smiths of the world?
Obviously, there is no fixed number, but phenomenology might point us toward an answer. Dunbar’s number is a social science theory that states that people are generally able to maintain stable social relationships of about 150 people. One of Dunbar’s argument is that historically, there have been many organization that formed organically to be around 150 people, such as military units (companies in the U.S.) and nomadic villages.
When Steve Jobs resigned from Apple in 2011, the company employed about 60,000 people. Microsoft was probably in the same vicinity when Bill Gates stepped down, but both companies now employ over 100,000 people. Obama leads over 4 million US government employees, Einstein probably didn’t work with much more than few assistants.
Ok, industry and context matters heavily, so finding that ratio may not be so easy.
It seems that these days, everyone wants to be Steve. No one wants to live a secure but boring life of Frank Smith. We all want to be visionaries, inspire, and change the world in one way or another.
This is not going to work.
I don’t know when it became a bad thing to be Frank Smith. While I never lived in the 50s and 60s, but it was probably okay to be normal back then, and a lot of people lived, normally. They say that we don’t want to live same way our parents do, and if so, is this a pendulum that swings back and forth between Steve and Frank? Will the generation that follow look at how unhappy Gen Y yuppies are and conclude that they want a more stable life?
Will we make movies celebrating Frank Smith?
I’ve been terrible about updating my blog. Moving to Japan has made my life so much more hectic, professionally, semi-professionally, and a little bit personally. Being able to speak the language fluently has opened up my world significantly, and I’m definitely chewing off much more than I can handle. But hey, it’s fun!
My blog has been the victim of my newfound busyness (my friends in Germany are probably wondering how I can be even more busy than before), but I am still Yelping! And recently, I hit the 1000 review milestone on March 12th so I decided to look back at my Yelp career (that’s a weird way of saying it). Just as a reference, my 500th review was on February 25th, 2013.
I started using Yelp around 2006, after I graduated from graduate school and signed up for an account in April 2007, but I did not write a review until 2009 which was for a sandwich store in San Francisco. Actually, back in the day (around 2007), my friend and I discussed creating a Yelp competitor that focused on map-based search because the Yelp interface was so clunky. They definitely solved that problem and expanded their empire significantly. I’m glad we didn’t start that company since we probably would have been a fishing boat trying to take on a battle ship.
Since my first review in 2009, I have now written 1012 reviews and amassed 156 compliments and 628 Useful, 562 Funny, and 465 Cool votes, gotten at least one “Review of the Day” (I thought I had another one but I can’t find it), and almost all my reviews are seven words long.
Why? I explain in detail on my blog post from 2009, but in short, I wanted to create a format that people can easily digest while challenging myself creatively. I still find many Yelp reviews too long to be scanned, and unlike TripAdvisor, there are no subject lines.
This has actually gotten some of my reviews removed because it doesn’t quite follow the content guideline of providing “enough detail about your customer experience.” I thought it was only restaurants using it as an excuse to get rid of bad reviews, but looking back, good reviews were taken out too.
Since I have them archived in e-mail, here are the five that got removed (there may have been few more):
- Kunitoraya: Standard Japanese Udons… in Paris? 2.5x the price.
- The Fish People Cafe: Definitely worth the trek to obscure location.
- Café Jade: Waiters have goldfish memory, cockroach attention span. (And they expect you to drink soup with a fork)
- Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris: Hi dad, didn’t expect to see you here. (This is not my usual style of reviews… for more details: http://www.sushi-suzuki.com/
- Scotty’s Bar & Grill: Not pretentious, not dive, not expensive, not cheap, not anything special.
I have broken out of style few times by writing near the Yelp character limit of 5000:
- My 500th review which was about a dive bar in Mountain View that fights against the tide of time
- My favorite sushi restaurant in the world, the my family has been going for ages
- Worst restaurant in Frankfurt, period
- My 999th review which was for a French-inspired ramen restaurant in Kyoto
- My 1000th review which was for a ramen restaurant in Taipei that I somehow turned into a cultural commentary
In 2010, I became a Yelp elite for the first time, not because I was finally noticed, but because I was living in Paris where Yelp was in its infancy and a new community manager was hired. Anyone who was active in Paris at that point pretty much became an elite. I’ve been an elite since, except for 2012 and 2013 when I lived in Frankfurt and there was no community manager.
Being an elite, even though I don’t like the pretentiousness of the name, has its perks in free food and drinks. I’ve eaten a lot of free meals thanks to Yelp, although I’m sure I’ve put in way more hours writing reviews than what those meals were worth.
Yelp’s international expansion has interestingly intertwined with my life. While living in Europe, Yelp pushed strongly their European expansion, ultimately buying out Qype, and a year before I moved to Japan, they launched there although I wrote that they will fail.
For the longest time, Yelp kept expanding to countries where I have been or was soon going, and once I visited Sweden for a few hours just so I can review a place there (I was in Denmark, just across the strait). However, I can no longer say that I have reviewed in every country where Yelp exists. I’ve never been the Malaysia and the last time I was in the Philippines, the USSR was still intact. 30 out of 32 is not bad though, and I’m sure I’ll head to Malaysia and Philippines one of these days as I don’t live so far away.
Onwards and Upwards!
P.S. I made it onto the Yelp podcast in Japan too (episode 27 on March 3rd).
The Japanese Master Ramen Chef
Let’s call this man Sho. Sho grew up in a regional town in an insignificant prefecture in Japan. After graduating from the local high school, like many of his classmates, he decided to work instead of go to college. While his teachers recommended the local construction company because of the foreseeable demand for roads and bridges in the area, he chose to work for his uncle who ran a rundown ramen shop in town. Sho loved ramen and couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Sho’s uncle’s ramen restaurant was not popular, it attracted customers purely for the lack other ramen choices in the area. Sho thought of many different ways that the recipe could be improved but his uncle would not listen to him. While the pay was not good, Sho lived at home and saved as much money as he can so he can open his own restaurant someday.
After five years of working in a mediocre restaurant, Sho finally saved enough money to buy a property at the edge of town to start his own restaurant (or enough money that the bank was willing to lend the rest).
For the first few years, the restaurant did not bring in too many customers because of its remote location. Those around Sho urged him to quit as he was barely making payments on his loan, but Sho refused to do so. In the mean time, some of the avid local ramen fans started to write about the hidden gem online. Soon the word spread through the blogosphere, Twitter, and Tabelog (Japanese equivalent of Yelp). Lines formed around the restaurant everyday, at all times of the day, and people came from all over Japan.
Those around Sho then urged him to expand the restaurant and move to the center of town but Sho refused, worried that a bigger restaurant would lead to decreasing quality. He stayed put in his remote location, serving the handful of customers he was able to service.
In the mean time, the media discovered the restaurant and flocked to the remote location. However, the master refused all but a select few interviews citing his belief that “the customer comes first.” The restaurant becomes a legend in the ramen community, a must-visit-site for anyone claiming to be a ramen expert.
Around this time, Sho got a lot of requests from those wanting to study under him. He refused almost all requests, taking only a couple who showed true dedication to become a ramen chef. After ten years of studying under Sho, the first apprentice, with Sho’s blessing, moved away and started his own restaurant in the style of his master in the center of the city. The apprentice’s restaurant does well but not as well as his master’s, because it’s not the original.
After 25 years of working six days a week with no holidays, those around Sho finally convince him to take a vacation. He takes a week off to go to Hawaii with his wife, but fails to enjoy the too foreign experience and is glad to be back when he returns home. Once back in Japan, Sho’s everyday routine of creating the perfect bowl of noodle soup continues until he retires at the age of 75 when his body can no longer handle the arduous tasks.
The American Master Ramen Chef
Let’s call this man Sam. Ever since watching “Tampopo” as a high school student, Sam was interested in ramen. He had his fair share of instant noodles growing up but believed that the real thing has to be better. After all, real Italian food was so much better than mac and cheese.
Sam’s first trip to Japan during spring break in college was a revelation. After the first bowl of ramen, he could not stop. In the seven days he spent in Tokyo, he ate more than twenty five bowls ramen, completely ignoring all other forms of Japanese food. After coming back to the US, he started reading as much as he can on ramen, which was very little in English (he had no inkling to learn Japanese). The next year he moved off campus to an apartment with a proper kitchen where he experimented with his recipe ever day, pissing off his roommates.
After graduating from university with mediocre grades and a degree in political science, Sam scrounged together money from friends and family to start a restaurant in the edge of his hometown (so he could live at home). After a trial period where he learned all the difficulties of running a restaurant (his high school waiting experience didn’t come in that handy), he took out an advertisement in the local newspaper and promoted the restaurant aggressively through Yelp.
The patronage grew slowly but the turning point came when the local TV station covered the restaurant (after all, it was the only dedicated ramen restaurant in a 200 mile radius). The number of customers quickly grew, and when the taqueria next door went bankrupt, Sam bought it out to double his restaurant size. The business grew steadily with increased media attention.
Sam then opened his second restaurant in the nearby city, followed by another restaurant in New York City. In five years, Sam opened more than twenty restaurants in the US covering most major metropolitan areas. Around this time, Sam started publishing several books on ramen such as the “Master of Ramen” and “Around the world in 80 bowls.” Most of the content is ghostwritten.
The media expansion continued as Sam then started appearing in different TV shows before he started his own short-lived show, “It’s Ramen Time” on a niche cable channel. Taking advantage of his media exposure, Sam then sold his naming rights to a major food company who produces and markets instant ramen under his name. At this point, the master is rarely seen in his restaurant, but instead on the road promoting his brand and books.
Sam then got the idea to start a restaurant in Japan, which became a media sensation on both sides of the Pacific. However, once the hype dies down, the restaurant closes down due to lack of customers.
When Sam’s restaurant in Japan failed coincided with when the ramen fad started fading in the US, and many of his restaurants struggled to stay in the black. Sam had to close several of his restaurants and after few years of stagnation and decline, he decided to sell his entire empire to a private equity. The company then streamlined the management system, modified the recipe to cut costs, and made the restaurant chain profitable again.
By this point, Sam had already retired to a small island in the Caribbean where he sips rum and cooks bbq for his neighbors.
Both stories are of course fictitious, stereotypical, and “truer than true,” but should resonate if you come from either one of these countries. The goal isn’t to oversimplify the cultures but to highlight how differently we think about growing something, even something so simple as ramen.
Well, I was meaning to post this a lot earlier.
I now live in Kyoto, Japan, the city I was born and raised until the age of ten.
I really enjoyed my time in Germany. Frankfurt was a fantastic place to live, there was a great expat scene, and my Ultimate team was the closest thing to a family away from home. Alas, it was my time to move on.
I am now working as a specially appointed associate professor at the Kyoto Institute of Technology working on the KYOTO Design Lab. For the first time since Paris, I am back in academia, but the context and work is very different.
During my time in Frankfurt, I had two unofficial offers: join a major German company and their design thinking team, or come to Japan and start working at the Kyoto Institute of Technology.
Something about my personality that has me jumping into the path of maximum ambiguity. The job in Germany was clearer, I already had a base there, and for once, a stable visa. The job in Japan had no job description (again), required lugging my things across the world, and rebuilding my personal and social life, again.
I picked the latter.
Japan also had the allure that I speak the language near fluently, and part of me was curious if I could fit into a country I left twenty two years ago (the verdict is still out on that one).
The KYOTO Design Lab (D-Lab) is a platform for innovation on top of the education layer at the Kyoto Institute of Technology (KIT), and part of its mission is to connect with the international design community. KIT has one of the strongest design programs in Japan despite being a predominantly engineering school.
My mission has been loosely defined and I’ve been doing a little bit of everything (publicity, outreach, networking) but ultimately, I’m setting up workshops and creating new programs for the D-Lab. While I was in Paris, teaching was my main responsibility; my role here is more diverse, and I have a good amount of autonomy.
That’s not without its downside of course. I have no experience working in the public sector in Japan (KIT is a national university) and there are a lot of challenges getting things done in Japan as you could imagine. There is definitely no shortage of learning experiences here.
The other advantage of being in Japan is that I am now able to network freely inside the country with my language ability, something I was not able to do well in Germany and France. As a result, I’ve been doing a lot outside of my work like being a pitch coach for Slush Asia , teaching at Kyoto Startup College, participating and winning in Startup Weekend, helping out with Makers Boot Camp, and of course Ultimate Frisbee. There is actually a budding startup scene forming in Kansai (the Metropolitan Area in which Kyoto belongs), and I love being part of it (although I’m not an entrepreneur right now).
Like with many of my previous jobs, there is still no defined career path ahead of me. This position has a maximum duration of five years (unless something changes) so it’s doubtful that I would be working at the university until my retirement. Life full of ambiguity but also full of excitement and meaningful things to work on. Can’t ask for much more can I?
Non-Ultimate Frisbee players looking at the title probably said to themselves, “huh?”
Conservation of Greatness is a concept in Ultimate Frisbee that states that there is only so much greatness to be had in the universe. More concretely, it means that a player who just made an earth-shattering play will make a comically stupid decision or play (normally a throw) immediately afterward. When this happens, the entire sideline will laugh, sigh, or hold their head in disgust, thinking, mumbling, or screaming “Conservation of Greatness” (the term “conservation of karma” has been used interchangeably in the past but it seems to have gone out of fashion recently).
The Conservation of Greatness is akin to the Hot Streak in baseball or the idea of Clutchness in basketball, and like those two concepts, it feels like it should exist. However, this has never been scientifically proven.
Can we do this?
Unlike Baseball, Basketball, American Football, and now Soccer, there is absolutely no comprehensive source of Ultimate Frisbee playing data that could be used to analyze this. Simple goals, assists, and Ds are not enough. Even a player to player possession path does not capture the required data. To truly scientifically approach this problem, someone will have to sit down and visibly code the “greatness” and “stupidity” of each play and statistically analyze the data to establish if the Conservation of Greatness actually exists.
Now that there is professional Ultimate, quality video data is at least available but there is still monumental amount of work that is required. If the data is available, I’m sure the folks over at fivethirtyeight would be interested but I don’t think they are interested at all in gathering data like this.
Maybe in the future, deep learning and AI would become good enough to understand “greatness” in Ultimate Frisbee to simplify data collection, but if we want to do this now, we need volunteers to sit through hundreds of hours of Ultimate footage.
Any one want to attempt this?
Photo by Kevin W. Leclaire
How does one get promoted? Climb the steps of the organizational ladder?
In a system of additive merit, people are evaluated by how much extra value they create for the organization. Going beyond expectation is the motto. Pieces of merit, small and large, add up as a person gets noticed and promoted.
In a system of subtractive merit, people are evaluated by how much time they spend in an organization without screwing up. Don’t fuck up is the motto. A person will slowly but surely climb the organizational ladder unless he/she makes some grave mistake, at which point the progress stops.
American readers generally resonate with additive merit while the Japanese reader is thinking “yup, subtractive merit is the Japanese system.”
As most people reading this blog are college educated professionals, most people are probably thinking the whole world should operate in a system of additive merit. People should be motivated to and be rewarded for going the extra mile.
No so fast.
There are types of work where subtractive merit is more of a natural fit, namely remedial jobs. It’s difficult for a grocery checkout clerk, mailman, train driver to really outshine each other.
Then there are those kinds of work where you may not want a system of additive merit, which can cause people to be competitive and/or overzealous at times. Do you really want a overzealous bouncer? street cop? Policing is an interesting case since there is only so much crime to be prevented. Put too competitive of a system for cops and they’ll start creating their own crime to police.
A system of subtractive merit generally creates more social harmony. Trying to one-up each other is a non-factor and people are unlikely to sabotage each other when everyone is slowly succeeding. When tasks and goals are definable and defined, subtractive method may be the preferred mode of working.
Of course this is not innovative work.
Not surprisingly, system of subtractive merit induces risk averse behavior. When there is nothing to be gained from trying something new but much to be lost by it not working out, people avoid it. This makes innovation incredibly difficult.
Not all organizations need to be innovative, but when a traditional one driven by a system of subtractive merit needs to become innovative, there are huge challenges. Behavior is incredibly inertial and even if the system is changed, it takes a long time for people to change.
A system of subtractive merit is also challenging for innovators inside established organizations. Doing something new often challenges the rules of an organization and without those willing to bend the rules, innovation can be tough. Furthermore, in a system of subtractive merit, most people see the innovator as a virus that could disrupt the cohesion of the organization, something that needs to be avoided,
Needless to say, this is the story of entrepreneurship in Japan and intrapreneurship in Japanese organizations. Much of Japan functioned smoothly for decades with an emphasis on social cohesion and not screwing up.
Maybe this is a better model of society, but I will remain judgement neutral for now.
What can be said is that in the age of increasing global competition and rapid change, Japanese needs more entrepreneurs and intrapreneurs, people who are willing to take the risk and fuck up once every so often. There are more and more people taking the leap, but the system of merit is pitted against them.
Two years ago, I posted that I was addicted to ukulele.
I still am.
In addition to learning how to play new songs and expanding my song book, I’ve started working on projects with friends and recording some music. Here they are.
Back in 2013, my Finnish friend Tuuli visited me and while messing around on the ukulele, we decided to create a song. We spent one night writing away and the next morning recording it before she had to leave and I had to go to work.
Last year for Christmas, my friend and I recorded a very famous Hawaiian Christmas song by Bing Crosby:
Yes, she is a much better singer than I am. We also covered Mama Cass’s “Dream a Little Dream of Me” which works surprisingly well on ukulele:
And Ingrid Michaelson’s “You and I”:
Lastly, two years ago, I posted on Facebook that if I received over hundred likes, I would record and post a video of me playing ukulele. 865 days later, I’m keeping my promise:
This is one of my favorite Japanese songs so I subtitled the translation.
Needless to say, I have lots to improve and I’m never going to be a professional, but it’s a lot of fun. I sold my recording gear before I left Germany so I have to get another set in Japan but sooner or later, I plan to start recording again, this time maybe one of the songs I’ve been writing on the side. It would also be cool to find a partner in crime (or even a band) in Japan to work on projects too. In the meantime, my YouTube updates, even less frequent than my blog, are available at Sushilele.
With my western background, social nature, and curiosity, ever since coming to Japan I’ve been trying to connect with as many people as possible in order learn and expand my network. As a result, I’ve attended many many events and my transportation costs have been incredibly high from all the trips to Osaka.
Besides events, I’ve also been trying to meet people through lunch, and this has been proving incredibly difficult. Almost everyone is too busy to catch up for lunch, which you know is bullshit.
This pattern was new to me, so I asked a close friend why it kept happening.
“Japanese people generally ask out people for lunch to ask for something (e.g. favor) and because it’s so uncomfortable to say no, they instead avoid the lunch all together coming up with some excuse.”
There you have it. A cultural tidbit from one of the most unique cultures in the world.
This of course doesn’t apply to everyone in the country. I have met some people for lunch, so don’t think it’s impossible to meet people just for lunch. It’s just a lot harder.