Turning a hot dog stand into an entertainment complex

The basketball stadium at the University of Michigan was called Crisler Arena for 44 years, from the time it was built until last year.  That’s when they added more goodies for fans and players, like a $23.2 million player development center, a jumbotron, and hopefully, much better food.

Now they call it the Crisler Center.

Much more befitting for a modern-day arena.  Better suited to attract bluer-chip athletic talent.  And charge a few more bucks to get in.

Innovation can be much more than a new product or package on the shelf; in fact, it can simply be how you package your brand.  The University of Michigan knows this.

So does Anthony.

As you can see from the photo above, Anthony sells hot dogs.  But he also sells something that gives his hot dogs, and his brand, far more value.

It’s called community.  Offered up at the Anthony Hot Dog Center.  Which, of course, is a hot dog cart packaged a little differently. 

The community that Anthony has created comes from an insight:  Given the choice, people would prefer to eat with someone else instead of eating alone.

There’s nothing more powerful than a powerful insight, and Anthony had a doozy.  Revenue aside, it’s what enabled him to create a business that looks more like a Crisler Center than a Crisler Stadium.

The photo was taken on a Caribbean island, where many little kiosks and botegas vie for attention.  Anthony’s was always full.

I wonder why?

One day you’ll find out you’re no longer good

Listening to sports radio one day recently I was struck by callers talking about a pro basketball player.  “Bob from Berwyn” and others like him were savaging the player, ranting about what a waste of money he was and how he added nothing to the team.

But I was most struck by the caller who simply said, “He just isn’t good.”

This referring to an athlete who, from the time he could dribble a basketball, wasn’t just good, he was significantly better than everyone within a 500 mile radius.  You have to be that good to make the NBA.

But then one day, he just wasn’t good anymore. 

It can happen in the blink of an eye.

One day, you’re the man.  The next day, The Man tells you you’re not so great. Not so necessary any more.

Maybe they brought in someone flashier or smarter or younger or just plain newer.

Maybe a technology is developed that makes you less relevant.

Or maybe it’s you.  You’ve become less inspired, less motivated.  Inertia has taken over. 

And one day you’re just not good.  It happens. 

But then something else happens.

As the sting of rejection relentlessly stabs at you, and the hole in your heart forms where the thing you used to be good at used to be, a different feeling begins to creep in.  A sense of relief starts to form in the midst of the disappointment.

A realization that the situation you were in wasn’t perfect.

It was causing you stress and filling your days with unease.  Maybe you weren’t doing as good a job as you used to.  Others who had come up behind you were doing it better.  You weren’t working as hard.

At the same time, you were putting more energy into other things, getting satisfaction from them.  Enjoying the new challenges you were creating.

A switch pops up in your brain that goes back and forth between shock and relief, embarrassment and relief, pain and relief. 

But finally, it just stays on relief.

There are flashes of panic now and then but they’re quick and temporary and greatly outnumbered by optimism.  You have faith in yourself and awareness of your ability, and trust that something great will be around every corner, as long as you keep your legs and brain moving.

So you keep your legs and brain moving.

Even though you may trip up once in a while, it doesn’t take long to right yourself.  And in time you’re walking strong. Stronger than the time when the people said you weren’t good any more.

Because good isn’t just one thing.

Good can take many forms.  You can be good on the basketball court or in the broadcast booth.  In a boardroom or on a construction site. 

Someday someone may tell you you’re just not good.  And the really good thing is, they’ll be right.

The more important thing is what you do next.

"Cheap" is not a good story

I saw this sign on a recent visit to New York City.  Haven’t been back since so I don’t know if the $1 pizza store opened up. 

I loved the idea because new ideas that help products become more available to more people are a wonderful thing.

But an even better thing is building enough equity in a brand that it’s value can never be questioned.

So I’m not so sure about a store that sells cheap pizza.  Pizza I know and love (and trust) doesn’t cost that much more than a buck.  The $1 pizza strategy may lead people to think of the $1 pizza in the same category as $5 Rolex’s and $10 Gucci bags. 

A better idea?  Make better pizza and charge more for it.

In the long run, the stories people tell about a product are what stick, and Cheap isn’t a great story.  Just look at brands that were formerly considered premium, like Tropicana Orange Juice, now fighting for shelf space with store brands because they stubbornly kept putting their product on sale over and over and over.

If the $1 pizza people envision stores going up in Chicago, LA, and beyond, they may want to consider a different story.  If they want to sell out of a card table on Broadway, they may soon have their wish.