Alaska’s commercial salmon fishery is a huge part of my family’s heritage. My Grandpa started fishing commercially in Alaska on a sailboat in the 1920′s, my Dad is on one of our family’s two boats right now, and until I co-founded a few internet startups I used to spend my summers on the water too. If you’ve ever worked on a boat or in a seafood processing plant before then you know that the hours are brutal. You can go an entire week without any substantial amount of sleep. Above is a pic that my Uncle Jim sent me earlier this season. It was accompanied by the following email:
I had to send you this pic that the QC guy caught of me. I had gotten completely wet down on the line being dumb enough to jump in and show some newbie how to load a gutter, Anyway I went up to the office and hugged the heater to both get warm and get dried out, I was so whipped I just fell asleep and the QC guy walked in and caught me napping, ha. I just don’t have the “get er done” stamina I used to have. 36 hours followed by a 3 hour sleep was a piece of cake back in the day, now just a few 16′s back to back lay me out. However, I take some masochistic pride in being able to keep up with the children here who are in their 40′s — Like I tell my son (who is here as well and working in the galley). ”After working here, any civilian job will be a cake walk” — Well, I’d better bind my loins (what is left of them) and get ready for the battle!! It does sorta look like I am praying to something
I have a massive amount of respect for my uncle. Not only is he in his mid 50s… he also had a heart transplant about 17 years ago. I’d say he still puts plenty of us kids to shame.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the concept of inverted reciprocity. I have no idea if it is a real term or something I made up. Nonetheless, I’ve been using it to describe a style of negotiation that I’ve witnessed time and time again growing up in Alaska.
The concept is pretty simple and can be illustrated by the following story:
Once my best friend’s dad wanted to buy a used car. Now this can often be somewhat challenging in rural Alaska. But it just so happened that my dad was trying to sell our family’s Jeep Wagoneer. If I remember correctly, the Jeep was valued by Blue Book at around $1,500. My friend’s dad offered to pay $2,000, to which my dad countered with $1,000. From there they both negotiated in the opposite direction from what you might expect until they reached a fair price.
The reason for this inverted reciprocation is pretty straight forward. When you sell a car in a small Alaskan town, one of two things happens: (1) either everyone sees the new owner driving it around everyday or (2) it breaks down, in which case everyone notices that it is no longer being driven around. Either way the whole town is reminded of the transaction on an on going basis.
It is also worth noting that if your car breaks down in the middle of the winter in Alaska, it can become a very serious situation very quickly. No one wants to be the guy who screwed over the guy who ended up freezing to death. This type of social insurance fosters an extremely high incentive for both the buyer and the seller to not fuck each other over. In short, neither the buyer nor seller knows when the other will be the only person able to get them out of a bind.
It has taken me the better part of the last 8 years (since I left Alaska) to realize that not everyone negotiates this way. Most people seem to understand the importance of taking care of each other. However, it seems much easier to practice taking care of each other when the environmentconstantly reinforces that you should (i.e. you live in a place where people regularly freeze to death). Hopefully what I’m getting at is fairly obvious; every environment necessitates that we take care of each other. It’s just that some environments make it more apparent than others. But that alone should never excuse our actions toward a fellow human being.
It is really fun to sit and think outside the box, you just don’t want to confuse it with the shit that’s in the box.
- Walt Kallenberg
Last time my dad was in Seattle we had dinner with my sister, her boyfriend and my uncle Jim. As Kallenbergs usually do, the evening was spent pontificating (i.e. BSing) about life, the universe and the conscious experience.
A few days ago I posted an entry called “Tribal Economics,” in it I talked about respect as an essential ingredient to any group (such as a startup) whose members depend on each other. I put forth that respect isn’t something a person can earn but rather something everyone (and everything) deserves. This got me thinking about leadership. In some ways, leadership is the exact opposite. Leadership ought to be something that is earned rather than ascribed.
If you know me, you have probably heard me make reference to “tribal economics.” I often use this concept as a way to justify working 18 hours a day in a startup. Tribal economics is the concept that everyone contributes to her or his full capacity, and with that understanding, everyone is taken care of to the extent that the group either succeeds or fails. Please don’t mistake this concept for communism or socialism, or any other ism. The brutal fact is that all people are not created equal. Everyone does not posses the same abilities, or even comparable abilities for that matter, and all people do not have the same needs. In order for a group to operate under the premise of tribal economics – as I believe many startups do, or rather are forced to – individuals must maintain a respect not only for each other’s abilities, but for each other as well. This is the acknowledgment that whether we like it or not, we are all in it together. The larger a group gets the harder it becomes to recognize this. (If you try to institutionalizes respect it becomes discipline and looses its power.) My father, who grew up as one of the only white kids in a rural Alaskan village, always used to tell me, if you lose respect for anything, you lose respect for all things. In short, respect is not something to be earned; it is something to be given without reservation. Respect is the basis of tribal economics and of surviving a startup with your integrity intact.
A few days ago I posted a video of one of my friend’s houses in Homer, Alaska. I grew about a half mile from him on 4 acres of beachfront property facing the Homer Spit. We had the best view in the world! I still remember helping my dad and grandpa build our house. It was two stories, 32′ long and 16′ wide, with visqueen windows and no running water! We had “run and get it water,” meaning that we hauled our water every week from the local store. Also, with no indoor pluming we used an outhouse. To be honest, I can’t think of a better childhood. Much to my disappointment, my parents sold the property two years ago. Last summer I went to Homer and the new owners had erected the beachfront mansion you see below. But, above it, slightly to the right, you can still see the house I grew up in!
Lately, I have been talking to a lot of angel investors about Localcents. The importance of being able to quickly determine each investor’s intent, interest level and motivation is becoming clear to me. I’ll admit, when it comes to raising capital, I am a rookie. However, I have noticed that there are two basic types of prospective investors. There are those who feel compelled to subject you to a pedantic self-indulgent ego-driven inquisition and then there are those who are legitimately interested in learning about your company. Both have money to invest, but, in my opinion, only one of them is a true investor. On the surface it is hard to tell the two apart, but dig a little deeper and the differences become blatantly apparent. The type of questions asked by each differ greatly; no doubt because they are motivated by a different core. One will enjoy picking your company apart to no particular end, while the other, even when supplying you with harsh criticism, will still manage to inspire you. In my limited experience, the more successful investors seem to be good at leaving their egos at the door. Funny how that works!
Here is a short video clip my sister took of one of my best friend’s houses in Homer, Alaska. I’m guessing the video is at least 5 years old by now. They just don’t make them quite like this any more!
Alaska’s commercial salmon fishery is a huge part of my family’s heritage. My Grandpa started fishing commercially in Alaska on a sailboat in the 1920′s, my Dad is on one of our family’s two boats right now, and until I co-founded a few internet startups I used to spend my summers on the water too. If you’ve ever worked on a boat or in a seafood processing plant before then you know that the hours are brutal. You can go an entire week without any substantial amount of sleep. Above is a pic that my Uncle Jim sent me earlier this season. It was accompanied by the following email:
