It was five minutes before show time, and only 15 people had wandered into the conference room to hear Lancaster-Webb CEO Will Somerset introduce the company's latest line of surgical gloves. More important, sales prospect Samuel Taylor, medical director of the Houston Clinic, had failed to show. Will walked out of the ballroom to steady his nerves and noticed a spillover crowd down the hall. He made a "What's up?" gesture to Judy Chen, Lancaster-Webb's communications chief. She came over to him. "It's Glove Girl. You know, the blogger," Judy said, as if this explained anything. "I think she may have stolen your crowd." "Who is she?" Will asked. Glove Girl was a factory worker at Lancaster-Webb, whose always outspoken, often informative postings on her web log had developed quite a following. Will was new to the world of blogging, but he quickly learned about its power in a briefing with his staff. After Glove Girl had raved about Lancaster-Webb's older SteriTouch disposable gloves, orders had surged. More recently, though, Glove Girl had questioned the Houston Clinic's business practices, posting damaging information at her site about its rate of cesarean deliveries--to Sam Taylor's consternation. This fictional case study considers the question of whether a highly credible, but sometimes inaccurate and often indiscreet, online diarist is more of a liability than an asset to her employer. What, if anything, should Will do about Glove Girl? In R0309A and R0309Z, four commentators--David Weinberger, author of Small Pieces Loosely Joined; Pamela Samuelson, a professor of law and information management at the University of California, Berkeley; Ray Ozzie, CEO and chairman of Groove Networks; and Erin Motameni, vice-president of human resources at EMC--offer expert advice.
For most of the last 50 years, technology knew its place. It's very different today. Technology is not only ubiquitous but has become highly intrusive as well. On the Internet, people invent imaginary identities in virtual chat rooms. Children are growing up with interactive toy animals. If we want to be sure we'll like who we've become in 50 years, we need to take a closer look at the psychological effects of current and future technologies. The smartest people in technology have already started. Universities like MIT and Caltech have been pouring millions of dollars into researching what happens when technology and humanity meet. To learn more about this research, HBR senior editor Diane L. Coutu spoke with one of the field's most distinguished scholars--Sherry Turkle, MIT's Abby Rockefeller Mauze Professor in the Program in Science, Technology, and Society and the author of Life on the Screen, which explores how the Internet is changing the way we define ourselves. In a conversation with Coutu, Turkle discusses the psychological dynamics that can develop between people and their high-tech toys, describes ways in which machines might substitute for managers, and explains how technology is redefining what it means to be human. She warns that relatively small differences in technology design can have disproportionate effects on how humans relate to technology, to one another, and to themselves.
In less turbulent times, executives had the luxury of assuming that business models were more or less immortal. Companies always had to work to get better, but they seldom had to get different--not at their core, not in their essence. Today, getting different is the imperative. It's the challenge facing Coca-Cola as it struggles to raise its "share of throat" in noncarbonated beverages. It's the task that bedevils McDonald's as it tries to restart its growth in a burger-weary world. It's the hurdle for Sun Microsystems as it searches for ways to protect its high-margin server business from the Linux onslaught. Continued success no longer hinges on momentum. Rather, it rides on resilience--on the ability to dynamically reinvent business models and strategies as circumstances change. Strategic resilience is not about responding to a onetime crisis or rebounding from a setback. It's about continually anticipating and adjusting to deep, secular trends that can permanently impair the earning power of a core business. To achieve strategic resilience, companies will have to overcome the cognitive challenge of eliminating denial, nostalgia, and arrogance; the strategic challenge of learning how to create a wealth of small tactical experiments; the political challenge of reallocating financial and human resources to where they can earn the best returns; and the ideological challenge of learning that strategic renewal is as important as optimization.
Theory often gets a bum rap among managers because it's associated with the word "theoretical," which connotes "impractical." But it shouldn't. Because experience is solely about the past, solid theories are the only way managers can plan future actions with any degree of confidence. The key word here is "solid." Gravity is a solid theory. As such, it lets us predict that if we step off a cliff we will fall, without actually having to do so. But business literature is replete with theories that don't seem to work in practice or actually contradict each other. How can a manager tell a good business theory from a bad one? The first step is to understand how good theories are built. They develop in stages: gathering data, organizing it into categories, highlighting significant differences, then making generalizations explaining what causes what, under which circumstances. For instance, professor Ananth Raman and his colleagues collected data showing that bar code-scanning systems generated notoriously inaccurate inventory records. These observations led them to classify the types of errors the scanning systems produced and the types of shops in which those errors most often occurred. Recently, some of Raman's doctoral students worked as clerks to see exactly what kinds of behavior cause the errors. From this foundation, a solid theory predicting under which circumstances bar code systems work and don't work is beginning to emerge. Once we forgo one-size-fits-all explanations and insist that a theory describes the circumstances under which it does and doesn't work, we can bring predictable success to the world of management.
Reprint: R0309E Despite companies' almost fanatical worship of innovation, most new products don't generate money. That's because executives don't realize that the approach they take to commercializing a new product is as important as the innovation itself. Different approaches can generate very different levels of profit. Companies tend to favor one of three different innovation approaches, each with its own investment profile, profitability pattern, risk profile, and skill requirements. Most organizations are instinctively integrators: They manage all the steps needed to take a product to market themselves. Organizations can also choose to be orchestrators: They focus on some parts of the commercialization process and depend on partners to manage the rest. And finally, companies can be licensers: They sell or license a new product or idea to another organization that handles the commercialization process. Different innovations require different approaches. Selecting the most suitable approach, the authors' research found, often yields two or three times the profits of the least optimal approach. Yet companies tend to rely only on the mode most familiar to them. Executives would do better to take several different factors into account before deciding which tack to take, including the industry they're trying to enter, the specific characteristics of the innovation, and the risks involved in taking the product to market. By doing so, companies can match the approach to the opportunity and reap the maximum profit. Choosing the wrong approach, like Polaroid did, for example, can lead to the failure of both the product and the company. Optimizing their approaches, as Whirlpool has done, helps ensure that companies' innovations make money.
The business world is rife with metaphors these days, as managers look to other disciplines for insights into their own challenges. And metaphors can--despite their somewhat flaky image--be powerful catalysts for generating new business strategies. But metaphors are often improperly used, their potential left unrealized. We tend to look for reassuring parallels in business metaphors instead of troubling differences, the author contends. In fact, using metaphors to come up with new strategic perspectives begins to work only when the metaphors themselves don't work, or at least don't seem to. Consider the following case. An insurance company's corporate headquarters put together a team of experts to discuss ways the firm might respond to the challenges of conducting business via the Internet. Once the team drafted a master plan, the idea was that it would be promulgated to the individual agents and offices of this widely dispersed organization. In a meeting with the company's top managers, the author talked about Charles Darwin's conceptual breakthrough in formulating the principles of evolution. As his overview of Darwin's theories about variation and natural selection gave way to questions, a heretical notion took shape: Those far-flung agents' offices, instead of being strategic liabilities in a suddenly virtual age, might instead be the mechanism for achieving an incremental but powerful corporate transformation in response to the changing business environment. But it was only when the evolutionary metaphor began to break down--when the elements of Darwin's theory clearly were at odds with the besieged insurance company's situation--that real strategic insight occurred.
For most of the items they buy, consumers don't have an accurate sense of what the price should be. Research shows that consumers' knowledge of the market is so far from perfect that it hardly deserves to be called "knowledge" at all. Yet, people happily buy products every day. Is this because they don't care what kind of deal they're getting? No. Remarkably, it's because they rely on retailers to tell them whether they're getting a good price. In subtle and not-so-subtle ways, retailers send signals to customers, telling them whether a given price is relatively high or low. In this article, the authors review several common pricing cues retailers use--"sale" signs, prices that end in 9, signpost items, and price-matching guarantees. They also offer some surprising facts about how--and how well--those cues work. For instance, the authors' tests of several mail-order catalogs reveal that including the word "sale" beside a price can increase demand by more than 50%. The practice of using a 9 at the end of a price to denote a bargain is so common, you'd think customers would be numb to it. Yet, in a study the authors did involving a women's clothing catalog, they increased demand by a third just by changing the price of a dress from $34 to $39. Pricing cues are powerful tools for guiding customers' purchasing decisions, but they must be applied judiciously. Used inappropriately, the cues may breach customers' trust, reduce brand equity, and give rise to lawsuits.
Big projects fail at an astonishing rate--more than half the time, by some estimates. It's not hard to understand why. Complicated long-term projects are customarily developed by a series of teams working along parallel tracks. If managers fail to anticipate everything that might fall through the cracks, those tracks will not converge successfully at the end to reach the goal. Take a companywide CRM project. Traditionally, one team might analyze customers, another select the software, a third develop training programs, and so forth. When the project is finally complete, though, it may turn out that the salespeople won't enter in the requisite data because they don't understand why they need to. There is a way to uncover unanticipated problems while the project is still in development. The key is to inject into the overall plan a series of miniprojects, or "rapid-results initiatives," that each have as their goal a miniature version of the overall goal. In the CRM project, a single team might be charged with increasing the revenues of one sales group in one region by 25% within four months. To reach that goal, team members would have to draw on the work of all the parallel teams. But in just four months, they would discover the salespeople's resistance and probably other unforeseen issues, such as, perhaps, the need to divvy up commissions for joint-selling efforts. The World Bank has used rapid-results initiatives to great effect to keep a sweeping 16-year project on track and deliver visible results years ahead of schedule.
Coming up with creative ideas is easy; selling them to strangers is hard. Entrepreneurs, sales executives, and marketing managers often go to great lengths to demonstrate how their new concepts are practical and profitable--only to be rejected by corporate decision makers who don't seem to understand the value of the ideas. Why does this happen? Having studied Hollywood executives who assess screenplay pitches, the author says the person on the receiving end--the "catcher"--tends to gauge the pitcher's creativity as well as the proposal itself. An impression of the pitcher's ability to come up with workable ideas can quickly and permanently overshadow the catcher's feelings about an idea's worth. To determine whether these observations apply to business settings beyond Hollywood, the author attended product design, marketing, and venture-capital pitch sessions and conducted interviews with executives responsible for judging new ideas. The results in those environments were similar to her observations in Hollywood, she says. Catchers subconsciously categorize successful pitchers as showrunners (smooth and professional), artists (quirky and unpolished), or neophytes (inexperienced and naive). The research also reveals that catchers tend to respond well when they believe they are participating in an idea's development. As Oscar-winning writer, director, and producer Oliver Stone puts it, screenwriters pitching an idea should "pull back and project what he needs onto your idea in order to make the story whole for him." By finding ways to give your catchers a chance to shine, you sell yourself as a likable collaborator.
It was five minutes before show time, and only 15 people had wandered into the conference room to hear Lancaster-Webb CEO Will Somerset introduce the company's latest line of surgical gloves. More important, sales prospect Samuel Taylor, medical director of the Houston Clinic, had failed to show. Will walked out of the ballroom to steady his nerves and noticed a spillover crowd down the hall. He made a "What's up?" gesture to Judy Chen, Lancaster-Webb's communications chief. She came over to him. "It's Glove Girl. You know, the blogger," Judy said, as if this explained anything. "I think she may have stolen your crowd." "Who is she?" Will asked. Glove Girl was a factory worker at Lancaster-Webb, whose always outspoken, often informative postings on her web log had developed quite a following. Will was new to the world of blogging, but he quickly learned about its power in a briefing with his staff. After Glove Girl had raved about Lancaster-Webb's older SteriTouch disposable gloves, orders had surged. More recently, though, Glove Girl had questioned the Houston Clinic's business practices, posting damaging information at her site about its rate of cesarean deliveries--to Sam Taylor's consternation. This fictional case study considers the question of whether a highly credible, but sometimes inaccurate and often indiscreet, online diarist is more of a liability than an asset to her employer. What, if anything, should Will do about Glove Girl? In R0309A and R0309Z, four commentators--David Weinberger, author of Small Pieces Loosely Joined; Pamela Samuelson, a professor of law and information management at the University of California, Berkeley; Ray Ozzie, CEO and chairman of Groove Networks; and Erin Motameni, vice-president of human resources at EMC--offer expert advice.
It was five minutes before show time, and only 15 people had wandered into the conference room to hear Lancaster-Webb CEO Will Somerset introduce the company's latest line of surgical gloves. More important, sales prospect Samuel Taylor, medical director of the Houston Clinic, had failed to show. Will walked out of the ballroom to steady his nerves and noticed a spillover crowd down the hall. He made a "What's up?" gesture to Judy Chen, Lancaster-Webb's communications chief. She came over to him. "It's Glove Girl. You know, the blogger," Judy said, as if this explained anything. "I think she may have stolen your crowd." "Who is she?" Will asked. Glove Girl was a factory worker at Lancaster-Webb, whose always outspoken, often informative postings on her web log had developed quite a following. Will was new to the world of blogging, but he quickly learned about its power in a briefing with his staff. After Glove Girl had raved about Lancaster-Webb's older SteriTouch disposable gloves, orders had surged. More recently, though, Glove Girl had questioned the Houston Clinic's business practices, posting damaging information at her site about its rate of cesarean deliveries--to Sam Taylor's consternation. This fictional case study considers the question of whether a highly credible, but sometimes inaccurate and often indiscreet, online diarist is more of a liability than an asset to her employer. What, if anything, should Will do about Glove Girl? In R0309A and R0309Z, four commentators--David Weinberger, author of Small Pieces Loosely Joined; Pamela Samuelson, a professor of law and information management at the University of California, Berkeley; Ray Ozzie, CEO and chairman of Groove Networks; and Erin Motameni, vice-president of human resources at EMC--offer expert advice.
The Centro de Gestion Hospitalaria (Hospital Management Center), a nonprofit organization created in Colombia in 1992 "to promote and lead health management transformation in order to contribute to the overall development of the sector," registered a loss of about $91,000 in 2001. Top management needed a strategy to put an end to operating losses and ensure its survival. To trigger alternative courses of action, the case provides information on the organization's background, activities, and achievements in its 10 years of existence; its structure and daily operation; and its associations with several companies. Outlines the center's main features to provide the necessary background for strategic decisions on how to tackle its operating losses and how to keep providing the training, consulting, research, and informational products needed by industry players. Covers up to mid-2002, and discussions may close with the developments that took place when the new government took office in August of that year.
The Twenty-First Century Leaders Program was launched by a group of business leaders from the Presidential Forum of the Chamber of Commerce of Bogota. Ten business leaders and private schools agreed on a common objective: to improve the quality of education in Colombia. Today, 187 public and private schools have allied with 109 businesses in nine cities to strengthen schools as organizations and to benefit more than 100,000 children. The project helps schools to adopt better administrative practices and, since 2001, it has led national forums on the topics of quality in school administration to highlight the experience of schools that have experienced the greatest progress. Besides the topics related to quality, the project is also directed toward policy planning and implementation. Highlights the role played by Meals de Colombia, a frozen foods manufacturer and retailer that has led the program since its beginning.
Many health care innovations appear successful; but fail. This is the first case in the Innovating Health Care course that investigates how to create successful health care innovations. It is part of the first module in the course. This module focuses on how to evaluate whether an innovation is likely to be successful. It introduces an analytic framework that asks the students to classify the type of innovation and its alignment with the Six Factors in the environment that determine success or failure. The specific case focuses on an innovative weight loss program that carries no known risks and appears to be clinically worthwhile; yet, success has proved elusive. The case describes the other treatments for morbid obesity-ranging from drugs and surgery to digital apps-and asks what the program's innovator, Dr. Fallon, can learn from their success or failure in ameliorating morbid obesity. While the market for weight loss regimens was large, consumer-facing firms such as Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers and the digital app Noom had checkered success. Other business models, such as centers for bariatric surgery, diet drugs, and counseling by physicians and nutritionists were also not universally successful. What could Dr. Fallon learn that would help him to widely disseminate his innovation? A small clinical trial provided the accountability that Dr. Fallon's plan caused weight loss and improved heart disease and even reversed diabetes; some insurers were paying for it; and Dr. Fallon's books were best sellers. This case has an accompanying teaching note with PowerPoint slides that instructors can use for virtual teaching.
In mid-2003, as the 10-year anniversary of Harvard Business School's Social Enterprise Initiative approached, the group's faculty and staff decided to analyze its past performance and to formulate its future strategy.
Delineates how a for-profit health services business was created. Focuses on sources of financing, the impact of Medicare reimbursement, and Stark laws against fraud and abuse.
This course describes the public and private sources of financing of the U.S. health-care sector,and identifies the characteristics of insurance policies, their costs, the structure of the insurance industry, and the role of consultants and brokers. The insurance characteristics include financial, premiums, risk, self-funding, individual U.S. group plans, the underwriting cycle, etc.
Considers the lawsuits filed on behalf of victims of apartheid against multinationals who operated in South Africa prior to 1994. Reviews the debates about divestment from and sanctions against South Africa from the 1950s. Includes case studies of companies that divested--Eastman Kodak and IBM--and stayed--Royal Dutch/Shell and Johnson & Johnson. Concludes with evidence on the use of the Alien Tort Clains Act against corporations in other international contexts.
This note provides an overview of conjoint analysis. It shows how to interpret standard conjoint-analysis output and the uses of that output. It provides several examples of how output can be converted to managerially useful information.