Boredom, for me, is a gift. A signal. I welcome it. Because as soon as I feel it. As soon as I sense it. I stand. Pop my jacket on. And leave.

Yesterday, I drove to the countryside because a clever, charming, creative and conveniently alliterative chap had asked to see me. He was exploring my being at his side to drive his blibbing impressive business much faster, and much further.

But because of my low tolerance for boredom, I’m no good at nodding and prodding at buying signals. Instead, I want to spar. I want to fathom, there and then, what any relationship would feel like. I want to see whether eyes I am looking into widen and brighten. Or whether eyes flicker. Narrow. And dim.

I want to understand appetite for distinctiveness. I want to understand the valuable change we are determined to make – together.  I wanted to understand what tickles and raises a smile. If it’s profit and scaling – first – I’m out. But if it’s adventure, heart-quickening risk, and proud category leadership, I’m in. I want to understand tolerance for heartfelt, storyful approaches. So I don’t ask:

What market share do you want to get to by when?

I ask,

“So did you make the business? Or did the business make you?”

And,

“But are you weird enough to be interesting?”

If the potential client is still talking to me after that, we might just stand a chance.

Boredom, for me, is a gift. A signal. I welcome it. Because as soon as I feel it. As soon as I sense it. I stand. Pop my jacket on. And leave.

Most founders are looking the wrong way. Forwards. Which is why their businesses show up as dusty, inauthentic, or both.

I’ll explain this backwards.

(Not literally backwards. Not like, ‘if this sentence was backwards, it’d read like this’ backwards…

“backwards ‘this like read it’d, backwards was sentence this if’ ,like Not.”

I don’t mean that. I mean this).

Founders I help want to stand out.

So they need to go BACK to before they copied what competitors say.

BACK to before they copied how competitors speak.

BACK to before they copied exactly what competitors do.

BACK before reading and implementing the advice of the same business books that everybody else is reading.

BACK before they swapped their personal, heartfelt reason for starting, to saying they’re doing it for the same reasons as everybody else.

Back to the start.

Back to the only time when they actually, really, properly, genuinely were unique.

Back to being themselves.

Most founders are looking the wrong way. Forwards. Which is why their businesses show up as dusty, inauthentic, or both.

Remember the Potato Principle. And you’ll never have a pretendy orgasm and make stupid ‘Ooooh’ noises whilst stroking spot varnish – ever again. (First time I’ve written that sentence. Actually).

My friend Tim Steifler is a founder of a cool comms agency in LA, called Unusual.

A few years ago, instead of sending a carefully considered, written, designed and printed portfolio-showcasing brochures to a hit-list, Tim sent a potato. Then rang them up and asked if they got the potato. They all said yes I remember the potato. All laughed. And all started talking to this likeable potato-sending stranger.

Tim’s story could have gone like this:

A few years ago, my friend Tim sent a carefully considered, written, designed and printed portfolio-showcasing brochure to a hit-list. Then rang them up and asked if they got the brochure. They couldn’t really remember. It was hard work.

Now – it’s a principle. I’m not (necessarily) advocating sending potatoes to people. But I am suggesting you don’t sent the same boring old shite as everybody else to people you want to help. Spot varnished or not.

Remember the Potato Principle. And you’ll never have a pretendy orgasm and make stupid ‘Ooooh’ noises whilst stroking spot varnish – ever again.