Owning Up

To err is human; to admit it, divine.

— New Richard's Poor Almanac

Visit GiveWell's website and you'll find something remarkable: a label in the main navigation that reads "Our Mistakes."

Click and you'll jump to a page headed, "This page logs mistakes we've made, ways in which our organization has failed or currently fails to live up to our values, and lessons we've learned."

The page is long, long, long.

Alexander Pope once wrote, "No one should be ashamed to admit they are wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that they are wiser today than they were yesterday."

How many organizations are gutsy enough to own up?

Not enough.

On Income and Idleness

A great deal of harm is being done in the modern world
by belief in the virtuousness of work.

— Bertrand Russell

Ayn Randers go ballistic when Silicon Valley billionaires suggest a universal basic income would drive innovation and equality.

Can underwritten idleness ever be virtuous?

Watch an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians and you'll say no.

But philosopher Bertrand Russell—spared an encounter with Kourtney, Kim, Khloé, Kendall and Kylie—thought it could.

In his 1932 essay "In Praise of Idleness," Russell argued that overwork is overrated; and idleness, underrated.

With automation, he believed, people need work no more than four hours a day to keep civilization going.

Four hours a day would let them contribute fairly and earn their keep—and leave them ample time to study, think, play, and practice crafts. And as they do, innovation, charity, happiness and peace would flourish.

Sound utopian?

It isn't.

Russell's hope was simple: after millennia of "overwork for some and starvation for others," it was time for people to "stop being foolish."

And Russell was describing our future: a time when the "shared economy" creates enforced downshifting (provided the 1% don't win out and revoke the 13th Amendment; a strong possibility, in my opinion).

When you consider the fact most gigs in a shared economy pay too poorly to offer complete liberation, the Silicon Valley CEOs might be right: a universal basic income makes sense.

For the Ayn Randers and others who think overwork confers moral worth, I have just three words.

Get a life.

Conference Planners: Make Every Moment Instagramable

Planners, I pity you.

You haven't cracked Gen Y's code yet.

Now you have to wow Gen Z.

The US Census Bureau reports 74 million people belong to Gen Z. In just three years, they'll represent 40% of attendees.

Their intolerance of passivity makes the rest of us look like sheep; so does their penchant for social media activism.

And therein lies both the problem and the solution, says Skift.

No longer can you deliver your grandfather's conference and expect Gen Z to stand for it—or sit through it.

“If it’s not interactive, they’re not going to stay at the meeting,” planner Cindy Lo tells Skift. “They need to be entertained and they’re looking for those Instagramable moments.”

But if you try only to razzle-dazzle Gen Z members, Lo says, you'll fail. You have to razzle-dazzle them authentically. And you have to do it long before they'll even register.

And you have to do it long before they'll even register, because they judge a conference's real values before deciding to engage.

“Gen Z can sniff out fake so fast,” Lo says.

But how do you avoid appearing "fake?"

One way: avoid interruptive calls-to-action like "Tweet this!” in your marketing. Gen Z members understand marketing better than previous generations and abhor tacky commands.

Another: be Instagramable in your marketing. Use tons of imagery to promote your event, keep your copy short, and make both mobile-friendly. You'll not only convert more Gen Z members into attendees, you'll turn them into advocates for your brand.

Calvin Coolidge was the 30th President

You'll be surprised to learn advertisers spent $7.6 billion on billboards last year (a sum equal to the amount Americans are about to spend on legal marijuana―but that's another story).

Year after year, the billboard spend increases.

That's because billboards work.

In 1969, the trade association for billboard companies asked its members to join in an experiment meant to prove that very thing. Without fanfare, thousands of billboards with the slogan "Calvin Coolidge was the 30th President" appeared nationwide. Public awareness of Coolidge rose eightfold―from 4 to 39%―as a result.

Six years later, a similar experiment used the reigning Miss America, Shirley Cothran. Her name, face and title appeared on 10,000 billboards across the country. Awareness of Cothran rose sixteenfold―from 1 to 16%.

And in 1999, an academic researcher duplicated the Calvin Coolidge experiment in Texas. Awareness of Coolidge also rose sixteenfold―from 1 to 16%.

Should the association wish to run the experiment again using the slogan "Bob James' Granddaughter Lucy is Awesome," I'm ready to grant my permission.

Shoddy

Fortune reports Amazon is contacting and refunding shoppers who bought "shoddy counterfeit solar eclipse glasses on the company's website."

Shoddy has a scurrilous backstory.

In the mid 19th century, English shepherds would sell scraps of wool to textile manufacturers, who'd mix it with old rags to make a packing material known as shoddy.

Before long, the companies succumbed to the idea to market the stuff to makers of cheap clothing―and sold millions of pounds of shoddy to American war profiteers, soon to be known as "shoddy millionaires."

Shoddy quickly came into use as a term for swindling and humbug of every sort.One shoddy millionaire was Brooks Brothers.

When the Civil War broke out in 1861, federal contracts for military uniforms were awarded not to the lowest bidder, but the highest briber.

The bribes inflated their cost of goods, so clothing makers cut corners on product.

Brooks Brothers won orders for 36,000 uniforms that year, and turned out uniforms for the volunteers that fell apart in the first rainstorm.

When asked by legislators why his company used shoddy instead of broadcloth for the uniforms, one brother, Elisha Brooks, responded, “I think that I cannot ascertain the difference without spending more time than I can now devote to that purpose.”

Brooks Brothers was by no means the only "shoddy millionaire." Profiteers materialized throughout the North. Some sold the government shoddy uniforms that were non-regulation color, causing many soldiers' deaths from "friendly fire."

Harpers Weekly described shoddy in 1861 as “a villainous compound, the refuse stuff and sweepings of the shop, pounded, rolled, glued, and smoothed to the external form and gloss of cloth.”

In 1861, there were a couple dozen millionaires in New York City; by 1865, millionaires in the city numbered in the hundreds. One even included the mayor, who in his role as procurement officer awarded Brooks Brothers its contract for uniforms.

The New York Herald proclaimed, "This is the age of shoddy. The new brownstone palaces on Fifth Avenue, the new equipages at the Park, the new diamonds which dazzle unaccustomed eyes, the new people who live in the palaces, and ride in the carriages, and wear the diamonds and silks―all are shoddy."