Mitch’s Blog on Life, Books & Marketing

The Road was my first stab at reading Cormac McCarthy (author of No Country for Old Men, All The Pretty Horses, Child of God), and it was, in a word, intense.

Launching a new company is extremely difficult, and succeeding is even a greater challenge. But by properly marketing your services from the onset, you can establish a solid foundation on which your company (and corporate image) can grow, and grow.

I never studied marketing in college, but having worked for my present employer, Marketwire, for nearly three years, I've learned a lot about what new organizations can do to bolster their image and establish their place in the market. Here are five things you can do to ensure your new company gets off on solid footing:

1. Create a functional, dynamic web site.

Having a corporate web site is crucial, if not absolutely necessary, in this day and age. Your web site is the FIRST place prospective clients and media are going to visit to learn more about your company, and if your site is NOT up and running, your company's image will suffer.

Invest as much as you can into a quality, HTML-based (not "Flash"-based) web site. Be sure to include links to what your company or organization does (in an "About" section), as well as relevant contact information for either yourself, and/or your organization's primary spokesperson.

2. Draft a company mission statement, in three sentences or less.

What is it your company does or will do? What services do you provide? What segment of the market are you looking to engage?

Identify answers to these questions, write them out in a few sentences, and include this statement in all outbound communication. A clear and concise mission statement will help identify your value to prospective clients and potential partnering organizations.

3. Network, Network, Network.

Be active in attending industry events and trade shows. Introduce yourself and your company, every chance you get. Let the masses know your organization employs real, live people (not telemarketing or IT drones), and consider every human interaction an opportunity to expand your company's reputation.

4. Reach out to all local print publications; identify influential industry publications (and reach out to them, too!).

Be proactive with the media, and introduce yourself and your company as early as possible. Even if you don't have any newsworthy items to promote at the time, compose a hand-written letter or send an e-mail (don't call, yet!) to media members you feel would be interested in covering your company when the time is right. The sooner you establish yourself with various media outlets, the quicker you build a relationship with these folks and will improve your organization's chances of being featured in print and online.

5. Distribute press releases (frequently).

Ok, clearly I'm biased here, as I work for a company that specializes in targeted news distribution. But by sending out press releases, (a.) you're injecting your company name and product offering into the mainstream; (b.) informing media and consumers that your organization is active and thriving; and (c.) improving your Search Engine Optimization (SEO), assuming you're leveraging a competent newswire sgency.

Good luck!

I’m not much for memoirs, but I picked up The Tender Bar on the recommendation of the clerk at a local San Francisco bookstore, and I’m glad I did.

The Tender Bar, by J.R. Moehringer, chronicles the early life of, well… J.R. Moehringer, who grew up in Long Island, New York, alongside his mother, grandparents, several cousins, aunts and his Uncle Charlie, a bartender at the local pub, Publicans. His father, a popular radio disc jockey, was absent much of Moehringer’s life, and his absence is the central storyline of The Tender Bar.

With no father figure in his life, Moehringer becomes attached to the bar, Publicans, as well as the many real-life characters that frequent the pub. Each chapter in the book is about one of those characters, and the memoir moves (though slow, at times) chronologically as Moehringer encounters and befriends more and more people.

Though Moehringer details the years he and his mother spend living in Arizona, as well as his collegiate career at Yale, most of the book takes place in and out of the Long Island bar. Due to the fact that most of the events occur in the bar, most of the chapters involve the characters drinking themselves silly, leading to amusing events and/or interesting conversations on work, life, women, the New York Mets and a host of other topics.

For the most part, it’s an easy, fun, well-written read that will make you laugh throughout the book. There are some slow parts, and a lot of places in the book where the author is trying to be deep and serious, which can seem forced and unnecessary. But I liked The Tender Bar, and would recommend it as a good “vacation book,” especially if you’re on some tropical beach (as I was -- in Barbados -- while reading Moehringer’s tale).

My rating…? Three-and-a-half “Mitch’s” out of five.

My next book: The Road, by Cormac McCarthy

Past reviews:

-The Kite Runner (Rating: 4 out of 5)

I remember as a student at the University of Colorado, members of the men’s rugby team once sold shirts on University Hill that read, “Our drinking team has a rugby problem.”

Well, on a related note, “My dust has an apartment problem…”

Yes, my one-bedroom apartment in the Nob Hill neighborhood of San Francisco is covered with dust. It’s everywhere – on the floors and tables; on the appliances and picture frames; on the wall moldings and in the closets. If it exists in my apartment, there is dust nearby.

And where the heck does it come from exactly? I’ve heard the dust in my apartment is produced by these three things:

1. Substances brought in by the outside wind;
2. Material that builds up in the air conditioner and is released when turned on; and
3. Dead skin.

If this is true, I have three follow-up questions:

1. If my windows are continually closed, how are substances from outside getting in?
2. How is material getting into my air conditioner when I, myself, have yet to find the AC unit in my apartment?
3. And with all this dead skin being shed, when did I become a snake (and please, no comments from you ex-girlfriends…)?

Getting rid of dust, at least, momentarily, is pretty easy. I’ll often take a duster around the apartment, and then follow that up with either a quick vacuum or sweep of the broom.

But the problem is, the dust just keeps coming back. As soon as it’s removed, it can be found occupying the same spaces just days later… Dust in my apartment makes more comebacks than Keith Richards. 

Well, I give up… Dust – you win. And if you start paying rent, I’ll even toss out my broom…

There are infinite ways we human beings can live life on the edge. For example, you could test your mettle by swimming with sharks in the South Pacific. Or, you could brave the elements by attempting to ascend Mount Everest.

Heck, you could even try dating Britney Spears, which I would classify as “gutsy.”

But, as a true urban-ite – well-situated here in San Francisco – I’ve found there’s nothing quite more perilous than participating in a round of credit card roulette with six of your good friends at a first-class restaurant.

What is credit card roulette, exactly? Well, Urban Dictionary defines the practice of credit card roulette as:

A game of chance to decide which person pays for a restaurant meal. Every party contributes a credit/debit card into a hat and the waiter/waitress removes one card at time. The last card removed pays the entire bill.

And I attempted this game of chance last night… and lived to tell about it.

Six of my guy friends – Greg, Joey, Matt, Andy, Kyle, Clark and myself – met for a nice meal at The House of Prime Rib here in San Francisco. Over the course of two and half hours, the seven of us (well, six… Clark arrived late) enjoyed a lavish meal of stiff drinks, fine wines, tasty fixings, and of course, world-class cuts of meat.

No expense was spared for us seven young professionals (well, six… since Clark arrived late), and after a delicious meal, the check arrived, totaling in the neighborhood of $400.

As we all dipped into our Fossil wallets to pull out our respective credit cards of choice (no one carries cash in this city), someone in the group offered the idea of credit card roulette. It was a bold call from a member of our assembly (and I believe it was Clark who made the call, ironically, as he arrived late, didn’t partake in the meal, and was exempt from the game).

And after those three words were thrown out into the open – credit card roulette…– a feeling of tension poured through our booth. We all looked at each other, each sharing the same simple thought: “Is this a good idea…? Is it worth it to forgo an easy payment of sixty dollars with the chance of having to pay $400 instead…?”

I admit, I was nervous. I’m not much of a gambler, and I would have been very content just paying my share and walking out the restaurant to eat another day. Had I known my dinner might have cost $400, I might never have agreed to meet my comrades for a “friendly” meal.

But the pack I run with isn’t as cautious as I claim to be; they gamble on everything – sports games… cards… ordering late-night Chinese food. There isn’t a bet they wouldn’t consider; a spade they wouldn’t spade.

So I was in; I took out my Mastercard and handed it over to our server who collected everyone’s card. It was hard parting with my credit card, knowing that when it would be returned, it may be slapped with a hefty, hurtful fine. The situation seemed similar to a parent taking their child to the doctor’s office, with the possibility of a painful vaccine shot floating eerily in the air.

After mixing up the bag of cards, the seven of us looked up to the server with horrid anticipation. She pulled the first card…

“Kyle,” she said softly. Kyle was safe. The gun’s chamber had spared him, saving its silver bullet for another victim.

The server reached into the bag for the second time…

“Matt,” she said after pausing for dramatic effect. Matt was now safe, as well. He and Kyle shared a mutual look of relief, and each took a long sip out of their wine glasses with intense satisfaction.

And the rest of us… well, the rest of us were scared. Four credit cards remained in the bag; the four of us remaining – Greg, Andy, Joey and myself – each had a 25% chance of being stuck with the bill. The odds were high, the moment tense, and I now realized why smokers smoke.

The server shook up the bag again, dipping her hand gently into its deep recess… You could hear a pin drop before she announced delicately…

“Greg.”

Greg, who looked as pale as a ghost, exhaled a huge breath. He avoided the deathblow, and was now free to enjoy the next few minutes of financial freedom along with Kyle and Matt.

There were just three of us left, including me. I was mad at myself for engaging in such a game. This behavior was completely un-Mitch-like. I never win these things, I thought to myself, and was starting to contemplate what it would mean to snack just on Top Ramen for the next month and a half.

I looked down, partly in prayer, and partly because I wanted to avoid the looks of everyone else. The server reached in the bag one more time…

“Mitchell,” she whispered, as gentle as an angel. I had survived. I had survived my first game of credit card roulette. The gods had spared me, and I nearly fainted.

Greg, who was sitting next to me, looked at me, saying nothing. He held up his fist and I did the same, knocking his. It was a simple act of solidarity between men, meaning “you made it; you survived."

But as I had safely crossed the River Styx a la Prime Rib, there were still two members of our group on the other side, waiting for passage. Andrew and Joseph.

After the server announced my name, Andy stood up and headed towards the entrance. He took a seat by the door with his head in his hands. He couldn’t watch; he was unable to handle the situation. After all, he now stood a 50% chance of paying for our entire meal. A coin flip…

Joey, to his credit, remained at the table, calm, stoic… almost tranquil. Joey awaited his fate with the patience of a man who already knew what the final outcome would be.

The server, who must have been a theatre major due to all the drama she was creating, put her hand in the bag one final time. She fished around, and after a minute or so, pulled out the final plastic vestige.

“Andy,” she read.

Upon hearing his name, Andy, who was hiding in the corner, let out a huge scream of joy. He had made it through alive; Andy was safe.

And then there was Joey… He had lost; he had taken the metaphorical bullet in the back of the head. Joey was left to foot the entire House of Prime Rib bill – 400 bucks… blood money.

And he took it like a man; I even recall a brief smirk crossing his face before the server sealed his fate.

And that was that… That was my first taste of credit card roulette. It was exhilarating and frightening, all at once – an experience that may have removed several years from my life (in conjunction with the two and a half pounds of meat I consumed at the table).

Dinner, with my friends, will never be the same again...

I recently finished The Kite Runner, the first book written by Khaled Hosseini. I knew a lot of people who had read this book and had strong opinions on it, so I decided to give it a go. I was pleasantly surprised and pleased with The Kite Runner, though I wasn't entirely satisfied with the ending.

The Kite Runner reads from the first-person perspective of Amir, the son of a wealthy businessman, who lives with his father, Baba, in a large house in Afghanistan. Amir and his father reside with their servant, Ali, and Ali's own son, Hassan. The first part of the novel centers around the interconnected relationships of both sets of sons and fathers, as well as Amir's close, almost brotherly, relationship with Hassan.

The author, Hosseini, does a great job of detailing the various lives of these four characters, set against the backdrop of Afghanistan in the 1970's and 80's. At the time, Afghanistan was a thriving, cultural mecca, though trouble lay ahead with Russian forces moving into the area, eventually exerting their will on the Afghani people.

Without giving away too much detail, Amir and Hassan experience a life changing event from different angles, which ultimately separates the pair, sending them both in completely different directions. This change in direction leads to Amir and his father migrating to America, where they start new, humble lives in the Bay Area. Hassan, as we later learn, remains in Afghanistan where his life becomes... well, depressing.

Much of the second half of the book deals with Amir making amends and redeeming himself for his handling of the event which, as briefly described above, sends both himself and Hassan along different routes. The lengths Amir goes to redeem himself are both dangerous and sometimes unbelievable -- even for a novel -- but it certainly is attention-grabbing... It's nearly impossible to put the book down over the last 100 pages.

This book is about 400 pages, but you'll tear through it in no time. The chapters are fairly short, and the novel moves along quickly and neatly, but beware, this is by no means a "feel good" story. There are a lot of sad, depressing moments in The Kite Runner, and even the conclusion makes you wonder why the author ended it this way.

I never really was all that interested in Afghanistan and its culture, but Hosseini really paints a vivid, interesting story of the rise and fall of the region. Midway through the book, I found myself repeating and memorizing a bunch of Afghani terms that are mentioned throughout the story. I was so enthralled with Hosseini's descriptive passages, I may even venture out to an Afghani restaurant here in San Francisco (should all Italian, sushi and burger joints suddenly close down for no reason).

Do I recommend The Kite Runner...? Absolutely. It's a good, quick read, and if you're in the mood for something a bit cultural and thought-provoking, pick it up.

On a scale of one to five (five being "amazing," and one being "awful"), I give The Kite Runner four "Mitch's".

My next book: The Tender Bar, by J.R. Moehringer

The Bay Area is preparing for a series of powerful rain storms beginning tonight, and all I can say is, bring it on, Mother Nature. Let it rain, let it pour... soak everything in your wake.

I think Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam said it best when he sang in "Wash":

Oh please, let it rain today.
The city is so filthy, like my mind in ways...

I love the rain: it represents a natural cleansing of the air, the streets... everything. Yes, driving can be a pain, as can walking to work, going to the gym, grabbing a coffee. But there's just this amazing feeling when the heavens open up and wash away all the dirt, the smog, the complacency of life that sets in. Rain resets everything; wipes the slate clean, literally.

Let it rain, let it pour... Let life and the city renew.

My New Year's resolutions for 2008:

I recently purchased a High Definition (HD) TV… It may just be the most marvelous invention on God’s great Earth.

After spending the last eight years with a bulky Panasonic, 19-inch, TV/VCR combo, I traded my old tube for a spankin’ new, sleek, 32-inch, Samsung HDTV. I would never classify an appliance as “sexy,” but if I happened to have been born a microwave, I’m not sure I could ever take my buttons off my new HDTV... It’s the Angelina Jolie of electronics.

And when connected to my recently hooked up High Definition cable box, television programming has never looked so wondrous or real.

For those of you unfamiliar with HDTV, put your hand in front of your face and peak through your fingers; this represents the view of regular cable television. Now remove your hand, open your eyes and imagine you’re gazing upon a crystal clear Hawaiian waterfall with Baywatch extras frolicking in the surf – that, my friends, is HDTV.

Because of the HD connection, I now watch sports where I feel like I’m actually on the field. The turf is an amazing green color; the players’ uniforms are clean and sharp; and the referees look like they’re speaking directly to you when explaining a call.

(Beware, though, of watching sports in HD: Initially this was a great thing. But after injecting myself into the action of another horrendous defeat for the San Francisco 49ers, I may refrain from watching any future Niners’ game in HD… much, much too realistic and painful.)

And I’ve now uncovered a new love for all those nature channels I used to pass over. The Discovery Channel and National Geographic network have now become personal favorites. My HDTV makes both the animals and landscapes come alive.

(Be weary of this, as well: After a night out at the bars, I found myself home late watching a special on the Ecosystems of the Galapagos Islands… for two-and-a-half hours. That’s what HDTV will do to you.)

With so many fun things to do outside your cramped apartment, it’s hard to justify staying in and watching TV. And on a nice day in a city like San Francisco, the last place you want to be is indoors.

But, God, I just got an HDTV… Let it rain.
 

I’ll admit, I read GQ magazine. Why not? It’s a pretty cool men’s magazine, and every issue features most of the things in life that I’m currently interested in: sports, music, books, politics, gadgets, electronics, cars, women, and yes, men’s fashion.

In fact of all these topics, GQ devotes most of its pages to men’s clothes – suits, shoes, jeans, shirts, pants… everything a guy would wear. And since I’m a guy, and I typically wear clothes, I’m interested to see what the trend setters at GQ think are the hot men’s clothes at the time.

There’s only one problem though… Everything GQ displays in its fashion pages is ridiculously expensive. I mean, REALLY expensive, so much so that I imagine the only men in this world who could afford these looks aren’t wasting their time reading GQ; they’re probably navigating the Mediterranean in their 100-foot yachts or hobnobbing with other rich folks on the sidelines of Polo matches.

Take last month’s issue, the one with Tom Brady on the cover. In this one, there’s a lengthy piece on gray suits to wear for the fall season. Perfect – it’s fall, I could use a new suit or two, and now GQ is going to show me what’s hot to trot so I can dress to impress in my weekly business meetings.

OK, first suit: Hugo Boss, light gray, two-piece, single-breasted… $1,400. Umm… let’s check out the next one…

Second suit: Calvin Klein Black Label, dark gray with slight pinstripe, two-piece, wide lapel… $1,795. Turning the page…

Third suit: Zegna, medium gray, three-piece suit with narrow fit… $2,045. Alright, self-worth fading a bit…

Fourth suit: Gucci, midnight gray, two-piece with subtle pinstripe… $2,800. You know, I could really go for some Top Ramen right now.

Fifth suit: Thom Browne, light gray, two-piece with three buttons, short lapel… $4,395. Who the f*ck does Thom Browne think he is charging $4,400 for a jacket and pants? Does the suit include an X-Box? A first-class ticket to Dubai? The first three mortgage payments on a new house?

After giving up on the suits, I skipped a few pages to a nice spread on dress shirts. Okay, this could be helpful, as I wear dress shirts every day to work and often on the weekends. Let’s see what GQ recommends:

Shirt #1: Some English brand -- $395…

Shirt #2: Some Italian brand -- $425…

Shirt #3: Some English and Italian brand -- $595… ¡Ay, caramba!

What gives GQ…? What are you trying to prove displaying pages and pages of men’s clothes that I won’t be able to afford any time soon? Are you trying to tell me I should have pursued a gig in investment banking, or that I will never be the epitome of cool seeing I can’t afford a $5,000 suit?

And again, who the f*ck is Thom Browne? F*ck you Thom Browne! And what’s with the extra “h” in your name? Who do you think you are with the weird name… Prince?

Good grief. I’ll see you at the sales rack at The Gap.