The National Honesty Index

A fun marketing idea from Honest Tea: they set up unmanned kiosks in 30 cities and asked people to pay $1 per bottle of Honest Tea on the honor system. They published the rankings online.​

The top three places were Oakland, Salt Lake City, and Boulder, with the first two scoring 100% (I have no idea of the sample size​) and Boulder with 99%. The bottom 3 out of 75 places were S. Chicago fans at 82% (what are S. Chicago fans?), Los Angeles (79%), and Brooklyn in last place with a distant 61%.

Gather ye rosebuds...

[Very minor spoilers ahead for those who haven't seen last night's episode of The Newsroom]​

Sorkin repeats himself. The supercut hammered that point home​. In itself, not a deal breaker. Strong voices tend to have recognizable tics, especially verbal ones, and some strong sense of authorship brings us back.

But last night's episode of The Newsroom lifted an entire dramatic scenario in a way that felt like a glitch in the Matrix. 

Mackenzie asks Jim if he knows the poem that begins "gather ye rosebuds, while ye may" as a gentle nudge that he should admit to Maggie that he has a big crush on her.

In The West Wing episode "20 Hours in L.A.", Donna says to Josh:

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Josh. Do you know what that means? It means you should take this time to gather rosebuds, because later on you might not be able to.

​She says it to push Josh to make a move on Joey Lucas (Marlee Matlin).

In The Newsroom, Jim finally summons the courage to tell Maggie how he feels. He rushes over to her apartment, ready to deliver his "You complete me" speech (or perhaps to tell Maggie that he intercepted flowers that some other woman sent Don at work). The door opens, and he sees Maggie with her current boyfriend Don. He switches gears midstream and is whisked away by Maggie's roommate Lisa, who mistakenly thinks he's there in a continued effort to woo her.

In "20 Hours in L.A." (here's an old recap from Television Without Pity so you can play along at home), Josh takes Donna's counsel to heart and rushes up to Joey's hotel room. The door opens, and it's Lisa from The Newsroom. No, I jest, it's Joey's boyfriend, Al Kiefer.​ Like Don, Al has a character flaw, he's a pollster who we've seen urge President Bartlet to support an amendment to ban flag burning (wherever you stand on said issue, what matters here is that in Sorkin's moral calculus, such an amendment would be a travesty).

Al is in a bathrobe, and Joey pops out of the bathroom in a bathrobe also. Like Jim, Josh quickly improvises an excuse for why he came by, then wanders off.​

This is just one example. Fellow Sorkinites, feel free to submit your own in the comments. Thanks to my fellow West Wing junkie Ken for helping me spot these every week to torture myself with them. Could someone write a program to cross reference each week's script from The Newsroom with the West Wing Transcripts and just save us the trouble? Or instead of just a soundboard, could someone build an Aaron Sorkin dramatic beat board?​ It would contain a grab bag of scenes you could transpose to a variety of show concepts and settings (the White House, cable news show, Sportscenter-like show, Saturday-Night-LIve-like show, etc.).

Sometimes you want to listen to pop music, sometimes you want to listen to jazz. Pop music is low entropy: you know what's coming, and the music delivers. That's gratifying and comforting in some deep human way. But sometimes you want jazz, which is high entropy. Who knows where Miles Davis is taking this riff, and when it will end. 

The Newsroom is low entropy Sorkin, and it drives me batty week after week. Even the news stories in the show are a year old. If you haven't seen enough Sorkin to recognize ​the recycling, the show may be high entropy for you. Its weekly dosage of self-righteous indignation (it reminds me of my Twitter feed many weeks), the absurd coincidences that fuel ACN's lucky breaks ("Wait, my college roommate's girlfriend's cousin was Osama Bin Laden's pilates instructor." "Why didn't you say something earlier?!"), the scripts that make the lovable Emily Mortimer into a screeching wreck (this past episode was a new low for Mackenzie) and Sam Waterson into a drunken...no wait, I'm not complaining about Waterson, his alcoholic Charlie Skinner is an asset, he seems to have just wandered in to the Newsroom set from another, much funnier show.

Thankfully for Sorkin, this is just television, not the ideas circuit. Before Jonah Lehrer was caught for making up Bob Dylan quotes, he was caught recycling himself, and he had to issue a public apology. I don't think Sorkin will be apologizing anytime soon.

And yet, as you can tell, I've watched up through the penultimate episode of this season, and I won't lie, I will watch the season finale when I probably should be out gathering me rosebuds. What draws me back every week to this ritual of televisual self-flagellation? It's not hate-watching, I couldn't do that for more than an episode or two, for any show.​

It's the cadence of the dialogue, the ping-pong patter of so many characters speaking Sorkinese​ vivacissimamente. Sorkin's written voice is more recognizable for me than anyone's in TV and film except perhaps Mamet's, and the pace is old school movie fast, just a hair's breath behind His Girl Friday. It's invigorating. Sorkin's tempo seems suited to the needs of my modern brain, which is constantly seeking more more more input (excuse me while I pull to refresh...beep...5 new tweets!). When I watch most television shows, I'm on my iPhone every few minutes, but with The Newsroom, when I check my phone I tend to rewind and listen to the dialogue I missed. There's no breathing room, and being breathless is its own rush (I imagine it must be as fun for actors, like a verbal spin class).

If only that firehose of language delivered more intellectual calories. If the characters from The Newsroom were as smart as Sorkin wants us to believe they are, they'd find themselves as silly as I do.

Network effect in reverse?

"When the Network Effect Goes Into Reverse" is the title of a James Stewart article from last Friday in the NYTimes.​ It caught my attention because I'd never heard of a network effect reversing. At first blush, I wasn't even sure what that meant.

I'm not certain if there's a canonical definition of network effects, but the one I've always worked from is from Hal Varian's Information Rules (if you work in the internet space and haven't read this classic, pick it up posthaste) which seemed like a generalization of the law named after Bob Metcalfe, which was specific to telecommunications networks.

Metcalfe's Law, per Wikipedia (which gives discovery credit to George Gilder)​:

The value of a telecommunications network is proportional to the square of the number of connected users of the system.

Hal Varian on network effects, from page 13 of Information Rules:​

When the value of a product to one user depends on how many other users there are, economists say that this product exhibits network externalities, or network effects.

If you read Stewart's article, he seems to reach for a literal reading. That is, if you start losing users, the value of the product or service also declines. Stewart quotes internet analyst Ken Sena:

“The network effect allowed these companies to grow so fast, but the decline can be just as ferocious,” Mr. Sena said. “If any of them misstep with users, they can leave, and the network effect goes into reverse.”

There's the germ of an interesting idea in Sena's quote, but the rest of Stewart's article doesn't tease it out. Instead, the examples Stewart goes on to cite fail to support his headline, and many are just plain false. He writes::

Facebook has been a classic example. If your friends, colleagues or classmates are all on it, you’re all but compelled to join. But evidence that the network effect is working requires rapid growth in users and revenue, especially during the early stages of a company’s public life. So far, social media has failed to deliver the kind of growth that would bolster investor optimism, let alone euphoria.

​How is Facebook not one of the most canonical examples of the power of the network effect? Stewart's point seems to be that since Facebook's user growth has slowed since they went public, the network effect is failing? Facebook has over 900 million users! Despite the law of large numbers, it's still growing.

To me, the only growth problem that Stewart says social media needs to deliver to "bolster investor optimism" is monetization. In terms of user growth, I'd be hard pressed to think of many faster growing companies in history than recent social media examples like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram.

Then Stewart shifts to Groupon:​

This week’s Groupon earnings illustrated the problem for social media companies. In theory, Groupon should benefit from the network effect. The more users it attracts, the more merchants will want to offer coupons through Groupon, and vice versa. And on the face of it, the earnings report looked good. Groupon earned a profit of $28.4 million for the quarter, above analysts’ expectations, reversing a loss a year ago. Groupon’s boyish-looking chief executive, Andrew Mason, called it a “solid quarter.”

But growth, not profit, is what matters at the early stage in the life of a networked Internet company. Groupon said revenue grew 45 percent over the same quarter last year. But it counts payments that it passes on to merchants as part of its revenue. When that part of revenue was excluded, revenue grew just 30 percent. And compared with the previous quarter, revenue grew just 1.6 percent.

First of all, Groupon is not really a network effect company. ​Remember Varian's or Metcalfe's definitions above. The direct value of Groupon to me hasn't changed appreciably even though its user base has grown. Any company with a lot of users will be attractive to advertisers or merchants, not just Groupon. That is unrelated to network effects. I haven't noticed any appreciable difference between Groupon when it had many fewer users and today, when it has many more users. [1] But from the early days of Facebook and Twitter to where they are today, the value of the service to me has shifted dramatically from its now massive user bases. Those are network effect companies.

Later Stewart writes that "a positive network effect is supposed to exclude competitors, but Groupon has long suffered from the perception that it's vulnerable to competition." He actually answers his own question, because Groupon is not a network effects company, and thus it doesn't benefit from the competitive protection such a model would offer.

Secondly, Stewart conveniently looks at only the last two quarters of Groupon's results and refers to those as "early stage". In its actual "early stages", Groupon was, by many accounts, the fastest growing company in history, reaching massive revenue milestones in times that I don't think would have been possible prior to the invention of the internet. Stewart's implication that Groupon didn't have enough growth at its early stages is just wrong. Groupon does have issues,  but a reversal of network effects is not it. 

So if this article doesn't support the concept of reversed network effects, then what does? If we go back to Varian's definition, there is another way to interpret "network effects in reverse," and that is by reversing the value of every additional user. That is, "network effects in reverse" could mean that a the value of a product or service decreases with each successive user. In fact, whether we call it "network effects in reverse" or something else, perhaps "network defects," there are many examples of companies that reach a state where such a phenomenon occurs, and I believe it can explain why some internet companies can spiral into rapid decline in such a sudden fashion.

It's a topic that interests me quite a bit, so I'll cover in in another post.

1 Groupon had one very light network effect built into its product early on in that certain deals wouldn't convert unless enough people purchased it. So having more users on the network could affect the rate at which deals I purchased became valid. But for a long time now, it seems as if essentially every GroupOn deal converts. I'm not a heavy user so my recollection of this is fuzzy.

The veil of opulence

At some point in the past decade, the explosion of fantasy leagues and the increasingly hostile and combative tone of sports talk has pushed the discussion toward something ugly, irrelevant, and ultimately boring. "Joey Votto sucks/rules" (a fun argument based in observation and statistics) has become "Joey Votto is/isn't worth $251.5 million" (an uninformed argument about money). The core structure of sabermetric analysis — which was always based on how a team should act if they wanted to win more games, not on how a billionaire should spend his billions — got co-opted into an incomprehensible language of contracts, dollar amounts, and hastily Googled advanced statistics. The veil of opulence seems to be at the core of this shift from entertainment to imaginary business. The accounting practices of corporate leaders should not be at the center of any discussion about baseball, basketball, football, or hockey. And yet we cannot have a conversation about whether Prince Fielder is a better player than Joey Votto without heavily factoring in how much money they make. This sort of opulent reasoning, of course, only helps the owner when he makes decisions that run counter to the best interests of his customers.

That's Jay Caspian Kang​ writing in Grantland (Kang being one of my favorite writers on the rich Grantland roster). I was thinking the same thing recently when talking with some fellow Cubs fans about the Cubs payroll. Why should I care what the Ricketts family has to spend on the Cubs to field a winning team? I just want the Cubs to win a World Series in my lifetime. It's not my money, really. Even when the Tribune company were the owners, I didn't care when stories about their financial distress came public.

The only reason I've cared in the past when the Cubs overspent is that I believed they wouldn't continue to spend their way out of those problems in the future. Then it distressed me that they didn't spend wisely because they would end up in quandaries like the one they're in with Alfonso Soriano, unable to move his big contract and unwilling to just write it off. I'd be fine with the Cubs trading Soriano and eating most of the remainder of his contract, but their desire to run the Cubs as a large profit center impedes the speed of their rebuilding. While I'm elated that the Cubs have hired Theo Epstein and Jed Hoyer and an ownership that has a history of spending smarter, I'd be just as happy if the Cubs spent like the Yankees and fielded a superteam.

By the way, "veil of opulence" is a gem of a saying that Kang borrows from this op-ed by Benjamin Hale. It's well worth reading.

Where the veil of ignorance offers a test for fairness from an impersonal, universal point of view — “What system would I want if I had no idea who I was going to be, or what talents and resources I was going to have?” — the veil of opulence offers a test for fairness from the first-person, partial point of view: “What system would I want if I were so-and-so?” These two doctrines of fairness — the universal view and the first-person view — are both compelling in their own way, but only one of them offers moral clarity impartial enough to guide our policy decisions.

Hale goes on to explain why the veil of opulence fails to offer that moral clarity:​

But the veil of opulence operates only under the guise of fairness. It is rather a distortion of fairness, by virtue of the partiality that it smuggles in. It asks not whether a policy is fair given the huge range of advantages or hardships the universe might throw at a person but rather whether it is fair that a very fortunate person should shoulder the burdens of others. That is, the veil of opulence insists that people imagine that resources and opportunities and talents are freely available to all, that such goods are widely abundant, that there is no element of randomness or chance that may negatively impact those who struggle to succeed but sadly fail through no fault of their own. It blankets off the obstacles that impede the road to success. It turns a blind eye to the adversity that some people, let’s face it, are born into. By insisting that we consider public policy from the perspective of the most-advantaged, the veil of opulence obscures the vagaries of brute luck.

It's a useful concept, a corrective to my tendency towards excessive empathy in an effort to be overly fair. As Hale notes, the irony is that that impulse can lead to the exact opposite result.​

It seems, however, that the concept of tight correlation between individual effort and success is core to the American dream, and a huge motivational force. Spend enough time in the tech sector here in the Bay Area, and you couldn't be blamed in arguing that results in the startup or entrepreneurial space​ space are probabilistic. Still, continued innovation in tech may continue to depend on individuals believing that control over their entrepreneurial success is largely deterministic.

The Facebook - Amazon comparison

Henry Blodget gives some healthy perspective on Facebook's stock price in Dear Facebook Employees Here's the Truth About Your Stock Price.​ Don't I wish that Business Insider had a social reader on Facebook so I could see how many Facebook employees had read the article.

The part of the article that interested me most was his last bullet point, which says Facebook should study Amazon's long term stock price for a best case scenario. If you like your analogies precise, this one requires more examination. I worked at Amazon from 1997 through 2004, and the Facebook to Amazon comparison isn't a clean one, except at the surface level in which the shape of Amazon's lifetime stock chart maps to that of any company with early success that sees its stock price tread water for a long while before shooting back upwards.

First of all, how the prices ended up with an early spike are different. Amazon never traded privately. Its stock only ever traded while it was a public company. Facebook's stock​ didn't trade publicly until after some period of trading privately. During that period of private trading, Facebook didn't have to adhere to public market disclosure rules, so much of its finances and metrics were matters of speculation. What investors heard was just what Facebook chose to share and what could be seen on third party tracking sites like ComScore. Those were usually two things: user growth and engagement (time spent on the site).

Those were almost always up and to the right, and the user numbers, in particular, were of a scale almost never seen before for any company, and dreaming on those led to some insane whisper valuations. Living in the Bay Area and working in technology for much of that period, I'd hear astronomical valuations bandied about by those looking to get in on the IPO.​ Revenue, profit, all of those were numbers available to a select few.

Of course, Facebook's IPO price was also pushed up artificially, for reasons which have been widely documented elsewhere.​

Amazon's stock could be based of​ financials from the beginning. Revenue, gross margins, users, and our guidance was all public. We were confident in our long-term business model and never betrayed any fear on quarterly earnings calls or in meetings with analysts, but we were notably conservative in our forward guidance. Still, the confidence of analysts who studied our model closely, including influentials like Bill Gurley and Mary Meeker, led them to issue confident opinions on our future. Ironically, some of the sharpest growth in Amazon's share price occurred after Blodget himself predicted our stock price would hit $400 (pre-split) in late 1998.

If Facebook's stock hadn't been boosted artificially at the last minute before its IPO, ​we might not be looking at its current price of $19 to $20 and thinking that it was a bit stagnant but fair. Versus companies like Zynga and Groupon, people might be pointing to Facebook's stock price as a rock of stability in the tech sector. Granted, Facebook ended up building up a much healthier treasure chest than it would have otherwise, not that anyone outside of Facebook was shedding many tears for them.

I was at Amazon from 1997 through 2004, and during that time, I never heard Jeff Bezos display a single moment of concern about what the stock price was​ to the company troops. We'd have quarterly all-hands meetings, and he never even talked about the stock price or showed it on a chart or showed a single moment of concern. How people see Jeff publicly, as a somewhat lovable, happy geek with a boisterous laugh, is how he came off at every all-hands meeting, quarter after quarter.

The only times I remember Jeff addressing the Amazon stock price were when people asked questions about it, at the end of All-Hands meetings. Jeff wanted people to able to submit questions anonymously so they'd be more inclined to ask difficult questions, and they'd be written on note cards that would be handed to Jeff at the start of Q&A. In between questions from the audience, he'd flip through the notecards in search of the most interesting questions of relevance to the company at large, and usually those would be the most difficult ones.​

When Amazon's share price was surging in late 1998 and early 1999, one question asked Jeff whether we should hang on to our Amazon shares or sell. Given that it had surged already, what did Jeff recommend?​

I'll never forget what Jeff said.​ Of course, he said, it's a personal decision, dependent on your own unique financial circumstances. But as a matter of course, the safe move when considering one's personal finances was to diversify rather than having all your eggs in one basket. It's the advice he'd give his grandmother, and it was the same advice he'd give anyone, including all of us. This was regardless of how you felt about the company's future, which of course he had absolute confidence in. It was such a sensible answer, and it's more remarkable in hindsight.

Later, of course, our stock came tumbling down into the single digits. Again, a question about the stock price came up during an All-Hands meeting (Jeff did not bring it up during the presentation portion). This time, Jeff quoted Warren Buffett quoting Ben Graham: "In the short run, the market is a voting machine but in the long run it is a weighing machine."

​In other words, don't mind the markets, once they see the long-term value we're building, our stock price will come around. He noted that we were almost never as good or bad as our stock price might indicate. Since the only metrics he focused on presenting to the company were those about our underlying fundamentals, he taught so many young people a first and important lesson about focusing on what mattered, what we could control, which was the customer experience.

I have no idea how Zuckerberg is reacting internally to Facebook's stock dive. All I've read is the same single word in quotation marks that many press outlets have cited: "painful". Supposedly, "Zuckerberg said the stock's performance may be 'painful' for investors to watch." I have no idea if he brought it up proactively, if someone asked about it, how he seemed when he said it.

Facebook's stock looks to trade more on financial fundamentals like revenue and profit growth in the near term rather than just user growth or engagement, and that's actually not a terrible outcome. Feeling like you can control your own destiny is as much as any company should wish for.​ If Facebook is looking at advertising as its primary revenue stream, it still only has captured a tiny sliver of that market. At Amazon, in 2000, when we looked at our share of retail revenue domestically and internationally and at retail segments we hadn't even entered yet, the future seemed full of opportunity.

The key to how anxious Facebook feels may be how much they feel in control of their revenue and profit growth​. At Amazon in 2000, our retail fundamentals were strong, and more importantly, they were largely predictable. Our customer experience was great, so our user base kept growing on word of mouth. Meanwhile, retail revenues, at least for a lot of the markets we were in (like media), follow a highly predictable, recurring pattern. For years, our revenue model at Amazon could predict our next quarter's revenue within 2 to 3%. 

2 TO 3%! It was a beautiful thing.​ I never worried going into a quarterly earning call whether we'd beat analyst expectations. I knew we would. The only variable was how analysts would receive some of our longer term strategies, like intentionally cutting our margins in the name of growth, which we did a number of times with an eye to becoming the most attractive retail option for consumers, period.

I don't have much public data to go off of on Facebook's ad revenue trends because it has only been public for such a short period, but it still feels as if they're trying to find ad units that will allow them to yoke revenue to numbers like total users, time on the site, etc. In addition, they're likely seeing their traffic shift to mobile, where monetization is more difficult because of the constraints of the screen size. Since the answers to those challenges feel less deterministic than the challenges we faced at Amazon, the stress at Facebook may be higher.

A difficulty which Facebook may have to deal with which Amazon didn't is employee defection. Amazon was located in Seattle, and I can't think of any local hot internet companies that seemed like attractive alternatives to working at Amazon. Microsoft was the biggest tech company in Seattle, but versus Amazon it was a dinosaur. Most of Amazon's largest competitors were either former brick and mortar companies or were in the Bay Area. Meanwhile, the current Bay Area tech scene in which Facebook operates is one of the most mercenary I've seen in my life, and the supply and demand curve for good people tips far in favor of employees and not employers. Facebook's has a number of huge competitors, cash rich, all of whom have campuses nearby. Employee switching costs are much lower than they were at Amazon.

The competition for employees, of course, is just a subset of competition, period. It's always tough to compare across eras, but Facebook's current competition feels stiffer than Amazon's in 2000 in two ways. One is that there are just more of them. In all my years at Amazon, only 2 massive, well-capitalized competitors stick in my memory as feeling truly threatening. One was eBay, and the other, which came later, was Google. They didn't feel threatening at the same time, either.

The second difference is that the moat around Amazon's business model in 2000 felt deeper than Facebook's feels now, though both are formidable. Facebook is more of a network effect business. While that can be formidable, and they have the largest network ever built in the history of man, we've seen that the lock-in effect of large social networks can be overturned, and has been the case many times before.

At Amazon​, we only had light network effects (the more users we had, the better our customer reviews and recommendations engine), but we had huge economies of scale advantages. If at gunpoint you forced a tech startup today to try to compete with Amazon in 2000 or Facebook today, I still think you'd choose Facebook. Amazon's extensive logistics network, its ability to get volume discounts from shippers like the USPS, UPS, and FedEx and from suppliers like book publishers, its willingness to match or beat competitors on price over long period of time, mean that to beat Amazon requires not just tech expertise but logistics expertise. And an enormous, enormous treasure chest, enough to build a distribution network across the entire U.S. and some international markets (by 2000, Amazon had entered some European markets, and by the end the year, they'd launched in Japan).

Not that I would fund a Facebook competitor (for example, if someone launched an app.net to compete with Facebook), either. But ​I think a straight comparison of Amazon in 2000 and Facebook today is not a simple one, from my limited perspective. Incidentally, another difference between 2000 and now is the existence of sites like Quora where employees, whether anonymously or not, report on internal mood at companies. Today, companies may have to live with more of their kimono open to the public. It can be chilly.

[Full disclosure: I still own some Amazon stock today, though I think you could forgive me for implying that you should buy some Amazon stock in the year 2000 if you have a time machine. I am not making any recommendations about Amazon or Facebook stock moving forward. I have lots of friends who work at both companies today, most of them are really smart, and I wish them the best.]​