“We built palatial forts in the snowdrifts after the plows went through. Lawn sprinklers in summers became portals to different realms and time periods; we ran through the strands of water with towels tied around our necks as capes.”

I texted this quote from Kristen Radtke’s article, “I Grew Up with Alex Pretti” to my childhood best friend, Jason.

There is always a gap between being an apprentice and being a craftsman. The apprentice may have the taste, but not the skill. The craftsman has the taste and the skill. We're drawn to creative pursuits because we recognize excellence when we see it. But when we try to create that excellence ourselves, we fall short‌ — ‌sometimes spectacularly, loudly, publicly so. And that gap between our refined taste and our rudimentary skills? That’s the Moat of Low Status, friend.

Ever wonder why some businesses inspire cult-like devotion while others fade into the background? Today, I explore two radically different approaches to putting customers first—and why the most powerful insight isn't choosing between them.

What if the "requirements" that define professionalism in your industry are actually just elaborate hazing rituals designed to keep outsiders out? From unpaid internships to conference fees, every industry has its version of blurbs: obligations that masquerade as professional standards but really function to exclude people without the right networks or cultural capital.

“It's often hard to see your own value proposition clearly, but the process Nancy laid out—and her emphasis on authentic language—helped me hone in on what's most important about my business and my work style.”

Organizational psychologist Karl Weick studied the Mann Gulch disaster extensively. He discovered something profound: the smokejumpers didn’t die because they lacked training or courage. They died because they couldn’t drop their tools. Their shovels and axes were more than implements; they were anchors of identity. To abandon them felt like abandoning who they were.