AJ Oberlender’s Blog

What Age Should a Kid Get a Phone? A Dad's Ladder

Fri, 06 Nov 2026 16:08:34 GMT

You ever notice that the phone question shows up years before your kid does?

Yael is five. Diana is three. They've danced around asking for a phone a few times. (Though if you've ever left your phone within reach of a three-year-old, you know they don't wait to be asked. They just take it and head for the camera.)

But I can already hear the question coming. It comes up at birthday parties, in the pickup line, in every parent group chat. Some parent mentions their kid got a phone at nine, another one swears they're holding out until sixteen, and everybody nods like there's a right answer and they're the only one who hasn't been told.

So I decided to figure out my answer now, while it's still a hypothetical and nobody in my house is crying about it.

The best time to decide your phone rules is before anyone in your house is asking.

What Age Should a Kid Get a Phone?

There's no magic birthday; most families do better handing over a phone in stages (a watch that calls, then a shared device, then a basic phone, then a smartphone with limits) as the kid shows they can handle each one.

That's the short version. Here's why I landed there.

Every "what age" answer I've heard is a number with nothing behind it. Ten, because that's when their friends got one. Thirteen, because that's the minimum age on most social apps. Sixteen, because that's when they can drive, so why not. Those are coin flips with a little confidence painted on top.

And a number sets up the worst possible negotiation. If the rule is "you get one at twelve," then the entire year you're eleven is a countdown, and your kid's whole job becomes lobbying for an early release. (I can see Yael with a slide deck and an emotion driven talk track. Now picture it every single night.)

The Grown-Ups Already Told Us Something

Here's the part that got me thinking about this sooner than I planned.

Florida already made the call for school. Since HB 1105 took effect on July 1, 2025 , students in Florida elementary and middle schools can't use their phones for the entire school day. Not just during class. Bell to bell. And Florida isn't alone; states all over the country have passed some version of the same rule.

Think about what that means. A whole lot of adults looked at what phones were doing in classrooms and decided elementary and middle schoolers do better with no phone in reach for the entire school day.

I'm not here to argue the policy. I'm a dad, not a school board. But it tells me the question isn't really "is a phone good or bad." Everybody already agrees a phone is a powerful thing. The real question is how you hand a powerful thing to a small person.

And we already know how to do that. We do it with cars.

A Phone Is a Set of Car Keys

Nobody gives a fifteen-year-old the keys and says "good luck." You get a learner's permit. You drive with a parent in the passenger seat. You get a license with rules attached. Then, eventually, you get the keys for real.

Every step is earned by showing you can handle the last one, and every step comes with a conversation.

That's how I want to do phones: a license, in stages, instead of a birthday present.

A phone isn't a gift. It's a set of car keys with a camera.

Here's the ladder I'm sketching for our house:

A watch that calls. Something like an Apple Watch set up through Apple Watch For Your Kids (Apple used to call it Family Setup) or another kids' smartwatch: calls and texts to a short list of people, and that's about it. This is the "can you answer when Mom calls and tell us where you are" rung. It solves the actual reason most parents want their kid to have a phone (reaching them) without anything else attached.
A shared family device, in a shared room. Apps and games live on a tablet that belongs to the house, not to the kid. It gets used in the living room, not behind a closed door. The skill here is asking first and handing it back without a meltdown. (I know. I know.)
A basic phone. Calls, texts, maybe maps. No feed, no app store, nothing that scrolls forever. This is the permit with a parent in the passenger seat.
A smartphone with training wheels. The real thing, with Screen Time limits, app approvals and a charger that lives in the kitchen overnight. Then you loosen the rules as they prove they can drive.

The Wait Until 8th pledge, which a lot of parents sign to hold off on smartphones until the end of eighth grade, says the same thing out loud: a basic phone or a smartwatch for calls and texts is fine under the pledge. It's the smartphone they're waiting on. Even the strictest camp turns out to be a ladder.

So how does a kid move up? This part is harder than picking a number, and it's what makes the ladder work.

Kids move up a rung because of what they do, not because of what day it is. I'm writing down what "ready" looks like ahead of time, so it's not just a vibe I make up when I'm tired:

They answer. When we call, they pick up, or they call back fast. (I will never let my mom forget the voicemail she left when I missed a call because I was playing basketball)
They hand it back. When time's up, the device comes back without a forty-minute summit.
They tell us when something feels weird. A message from someone they don't know, a video that scared them. If they come to us, they're ready for more. If they hide it, we stay where we are for a while.
They can use it without disappearing. Dinner is still dinner. A car ride is still a conversation, at least sometimes.

Every one of those is about trust. The device is just where trust gets tested.

And yes, rungs go both ways. You can lose the keys. That's how licenses work, and saying it up front keeps it from feeling like a punishment later.

Why I'm Building the System Now

I build systems for a living. At DoorLoop it's the only way I was able to build the websites offer, in my other side quests it's what keeps me sane, and the only way that math works is deciding the rules once, ahead of time, so I'm not re-deciding everything at 11 PM. Scale through systems, retain through humans.

Turns out that's a pretty good parenting philosophy too.

If I wait until Yael's ten and asking every day, I'll be making the rules in the middle of the negotiation, with my resolve at its lowest and her lobbying at its peak. That's how you end up caving on a Tuesday night just to make it stop. (Every parent has caved on something at 8 PM just to end the conversation. Phones are not the thing you want to cave on.)

Deciding now means the system does the arguing. Then the part I care about, the human part, gets to be the conversation: why we do it this way, what the internet can be like, what to do when it gets weird.

The rules are the system. The talks are the relationship.

I wrote a while back about raising independent kids and how hard it is to stand back and let them try. A phone is that same lesson with higher stakes. The goal is to hand them over one at a time, while I'm still sitting in the passenger seat.

What This Looks Like at Our House Right Now

Honestly? It looks pretty simple, because we're at the bottom of the ladder.

We tried giving them iPads with limited usage and that failed miserably. I had to hide the iPads even from Mazi so she has plausible deniability and can't cave when I'm working and she's dealing with a meltdown. (I'll write about that struggle soon, I promise)

For now my job is mostly modeling. Kids learn more from watching what I do with my phone than from anything I say about theirs. If I'm checking scores at the dinner table (the Heat are up twelve in the fourth, so obviously I need to watch them blow it live), I lose a little credibility every time I tell Yael to put a screen down.

So that's my homework too. Phone in the kitchen at dinner. Scores can wait. The Heat will find a way to make it close either way. One thing I've been especially cognizant of is not using my phone when I lay in their bed, something I used to do. Now I focus on them and leave the phone for after their 3rd time leaving their room because of a "nightmare." (Diana, I am watching the camera, you didn't even sleep!!!!)

I'm also leaning on the same thing I lean on whenever she asks me "why" for the fifteenth time : when she asks for something, I explain the reason, not just the rule. A kid who understands why the charger lives in the kitchen is a lot more likely to keep it there when you're not looking.

If you've got little ones too, here's the five-minute version:

Write down your rungs. Three or four is plenty.
Write down what "ready" looks like for each one.
Tell your partner, so you're not making it up separately at bedtime.
Then put your own phone down at dinner. That's the hard one.

Yael's going to ask me for a phone someday. Probably sooner than I want, and probably with a very well-prepared argument, because she's my kid. When she does, I'd love to have an answer that isn't a number.

I want to be able to say, "Here's the first rung. Show me you're ready for the next one."

What's your family's first-phone rule, and did it survive contact with an actual kid? Tell me on LinkedIn . I'm collecting these before I need them.

What Nine Hours in the ER Taught Me About Customer Support

Fri, 09 Oct 2026 16:43:25 GMT

You ever sit somewhere so long you start learning the shift schedule?

That was me this week. Nine hours in the emergency room.

I was having abdominal pain, and since I’ve had diverticulitis before, I know that feeling. You don’t wait it out and hope. You go get checked early, before “a little uncomfortable” turns into a five-day hospital stay.

So I went. And I waited. And waited.

Thankfully, I caught it early enough, and I just need to rest and take antibiotics.

Before anything else: the people were wonderful. Every nurse, every tech, every doctor who came into that waiting room was kind. Patient. Sweet, even. Nobody was rude to me once in nine hours, and I’ve had worse service ordering a sandwich.

They were also completely underwater.

And somewhere around hour six, I realized I’d spent my whole career watching this exact thing happen in customer support.

Nice people can’t out-work a broken flow.

Why Does the ER Take So Long?

The ER takes so long because patients are seen by how urgent their condition is, not when they arrived, and every step (labs, imaging, results, the doctor’s review) is its own separate line.

That’s not a complaint. Triage is the right call. If someone comes in with chest pain, they should go ahead of me and my stomach, every time.

But from the waiting room, you don’t see any of that.

And I never made it past the waiting room. At Aventura Hospital, that basically meant the lobby. Rows of chairs. Some people hooked up to IVs, some falling asleep sitting up, everybody watching the same door and waiting for their name. Every so often someone got called back for a test, and a few minutes later, back they came to wait some more. (Me included.)

You don’t know if you’re waiting on a lab, a radiologist, or a doctor who’s handling three emergencies at once. Nobody’s hiding anything. There’s just no one free to tell you.

The Tracker That Stopped Tracking

Here’s the part I didn’t expect. Aventura has a really cool web app that shows your wait time and where you are in the process. As a nerd who loves seeing new tech, I loved it. For a while.

Around 7 PM, I got contrast imaging done. They told me results would take about 30 to 45 minutes. By the time I left, close to midnight, the app still didn’t show any results, even though I got my results in my discharge forms and they’re in my health records app from them.

The app wasn’t broken. It just hadn’t been updated. And in an ER that slammed, nobody had a spare minute to click a button that says “results are in.”

A status tracker is only as good as its last update.

A tracker that stops moving can feel worse than no tracker at all. It made a promise. “We’ll show you where you are.” Then it went quiet, and you’re left refreshing a screen that’s telling you nothing new.

And that’s the part that stuck with me. The wait wasn’t the worst part. Not knowing was.

Your Support Team Has a Waiting Room Too

If you run customer support, operations, or honestly any team that serves people, you have an ER. It’s your ticket queue. Your inbox. The “we’ll get back to you within 24 to 48 business hours” auto-reply.

And I’d bet your front line looks a lot like those nurses. Good people. Doing their best. Absorbing frustration that isn’t about them, because it’s really about the system they’re stuck inside.

I see this constantly at DoorLoop . A huge part of my job isn’t building websites at all; it’s managing the anxiety of business owners waiting on one. I wrote about that in People Think They’re Buying a Website , and the ER made it painfully clear (pun intended) how right that was.

When someone emails “any update?” for the third time, they’re not being difficult. They’re the person in the waiting room chair, watching the door, wondering if anybody remembers they’re there.

The Psychology of Waiting (Somebody Already Figured This Out)

Back in 1985, a consultant named David Maister wrote a short paper called The Psychology of Waiting Lines . It’s still one of the most useful things I’ve ever read about customer experience, and it’s about lines.

A few of his big ideas, which I now understand on a very personal, nine-hour level:

Uncertain waits feel longer than known waits. “Soon” is torture. “About 40 minutes” is fine.
Unexplained waits feel longer than explained waits. Even a reason that doesn’t fix anything makes the wait easier.
Anxious waits feel longer. When you’re worried about the outcome, every minute stretches.

Now picture an ER. Uncertain, unexplained, and anxious. All three at once. It’s the perfect storm of feeling forgotten.

Now think about your support queue. Is it any different?

People can handle a long wait. What they can’t handle is a silent one.

Five Fixes That Don’t Require More Staff

Most companies try to fix wait times by hiring, or by telling the team to “move faster.” Sometimes you do need more people. But a lot of the pain in a wait has nothing to do with speed, and you can fix it this week.

Give a real number, even a rough one. “We’ll have this to you by Thursday” beats “we’re working on it” every time. If the number changes, say so before the deadline, not after.
Explain the wait. “Your site’s in design review” or “we’re waiting on your logo files” turns a black box into a process. People relax when they can see the machine.
Send the update nobody asked for. One short “still on it, here’s where we are” message cuts the “any update?” emails in half (and those emails are what’s drowning your team in the first place).
Automate the status, then keep it honest. Think about the Domino’s pizza tracker. Nobody needs a person to tell them the pizza’s in the oven. But Aventura showed me the catch: if a human has to remember to update the tracker, the tracker dies the minute the humans get busy. Tie the status to the work itself (the scan finishes, the result posts, the bar moves), so nobody has to click anything at hour seven.
Watch your front line for burnout. The nurse who’s still kind at hour ten is a hero. That nurse is also a warning sign. If your best people are covering for the system with sheer niceness, the system is borrowing against them.

Want to see how small the fix can be? Here’s the same update, written two ways.

The usual version: “Hi! Just wanted to let you know we’re working on it. We’ll be in touch soon!”

The better version: “Your site is in design review right now. You’ll have a first draft by Thursday. If anything moves, you’ll hear from me by Wednesday, so you’re never wondering.”

Same team. Same speed. Same Thursday. But the second one answers all three of Maister’s problems in three sentences: it’s certain, it’s explained, and it lowers the anxiety. The first one just says “soon,” which, as we’ve established, is the scariest word in a waiting room.

It’s the same reason round three of revisions is almost never about the design. When people don’t know where they stand, they start asking for changes just to feel like something is moving.

Kindness Is Not a Strategy (But It’s the Point)

I want to be fair here. Hospitals are wildly more complicated than a website queue, and I’m not about to tell an ER how to run. The people I met were doing heroic work with what they had.

But that’s the lesson. You can hire the nicest people in the world. If they’re stuck in a flow that hides the wait from the customer, the customer will still walk out remembering the wait.

That’s what Unreasonable Hospitality gets right, too: the warmth only lands when the operation underneath it is working. Kindness keeps people from leaving angry. A good system keeps them from getting anxious in the first place. You need both.

And if you’ve had diverticulitis before and that familiar pain shows up? Go get checked. Even if it takes nine hours. I’ve got two little girls at home, and catching it early is part of the job (even when the job includes a very long day of staring at a door).

What’s the longest you’ve waited somewhere with zero updates? Tell me on LinkedIn . I’m guessing a few of you will beat nine hours.

My rule is "scale through systems, retain through humans." The ER had the humans, and it even had the system. What broke was the connection between them: when the humans got slammed, the system went quiet.

Download infographic 1

Download infographic 2

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

What 'Am I My Brother's Keeper' Means, and Why Cain Ducked It

Thu, 08 Oct 2026 14:59:00 GMT

You’ve probably said “I’m not my brother’s keeper” at least once. Usually right before doing the thing anyway.

I know I have. It’s the sentence we reach for when something lands on our desk that isn’t technically ours. The broken process on another team. The neighbor’s trash can rolling down the street. The new hire nobody’s checking on.

It sounds like a boundary. It sounds healthy, even. Therapists would probably sign off on it.

Here’s the thing, though. The first person to say it was standing over a body.

This Shabbat, October 10, Jews everywhere start the Torah over again with Parashat Bereshit , and four chapters in we get the line. It’s one of the most quoted sentences in the Bible, and I think most of us have it backwards.

So What Does “Am I My Brother’s Keeper” Mean?

“Am I my brother’s keeper?” is Cain’s answer to God in Genesis 4:9 , a dodge he uses to deflect responsibility after he’s killed his brother Abel.

That’s the plain answer. The verse goes like this: God asks Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” And Cain says, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Two lies in nine words. He knows exactly where Abel is. And the question isn’t a question; it’s a shrug with a question mark on it.

The Hebrew is even sharper. Hashomer achi anochi , literally “Am I the guard of my brother?” A shomer is a watchman, a guard, the person whose whole job is to keep an eye on something. Cain’s saying, essentially, “That’s not my department.”

(Every office in America has a guy who’s said that exact sentence. Usually about the printer.)

The Oldest Deflection in the Book

What gets me is that God never answers the question.

Not with a yes. Not with a no. There’s no lecture about what a brother owes a brother. God skips Cain’s question completely and goes straight to the facts: “What have you done? Your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground!” ( Genesis 4:10 ).

I read that as God saying, “We’re not going to debate the org chart right now.”

Because that’s what Cain’s line really is. It’s a debate about scope, offered at the exact moment when scope doesn’t matter anymore.

That feels like the move most of us make when we’re caught. We don’t deny the thing. We argue about whether the thing was ours to care about.

And it’s not like Cain wasn’t warned. A few verses earlier, before anything happens, God sees him sulking and tells him that sin is crouching at the door, “yet you can be its master” ( Genesis 4:7 ). The responsibility conversation started before the crime, not after. Cain just wasn’t listening yet. (Relatable, if you’ve ever been told twice to back up a hard drive.)

There’s another detail I love here. One chapter earlier, God asks Adam a question too: “Where are you?” ( Genesis 3:9 ). In Hebrew, Ayekah . Adam’s hiding behind a tree, and God wants to know where he is.

With Cain, the question changes. Not “where are you?” but “where is your brother?”

So the first two questions God asks people in the whole Torah are:

Where are you?
Where’s the person next to you?

That’s the entire job description of being a grown-up, and we got it in the first four chapters.

The Mishnah Reads One Word Very Closely

Jewish tradition doesn’t let this verse off easy. The rabbis of the Mishnah noticed something odd about the Hebrew in verse 10. God doesn’t say “your brother’s blood” in the singular. The word is demei , plural. Your brother’s bloods .

Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5 explains why: it’s Abel’s blood and the blood of every descendant he never got to have. Cain didn’t end one life. He ended a family tree.

That same Mishnah is where we get the famous line that whoever sustains one soul is treated as if they’ve sustained an entire world. And it adds something I think about a lot as a dad: every person is obligated to say, “The world was created for me.”

Read those two ideas together and you get a pretty demanding picture. Your choices ripple. Your neglect ripples too. The person you didn’t check on has people downstream of them.

Cain thought he was answering for one brother. The Torah says he was answering for a whole world.

The Org Chart Says No. The Torah Says Keep Going.

Look, I’m not here to tell you to adopt every problem in your building. That’s a fast track to burnout, and I’ve written about the shamash candle for exactly that reason: the helper candle lights the others without melting itself down to nothing.

But there’s a difference between “I can’t fix this” and “this isn’t mine.” The first one is honest. The second one is Cain.

At DoorLoop , I’m team of one. When you’re a team of one, there’s no “that’s not my department.” Everything’s your department. The customer whose site launch slipped because of a billing hiccup on another team? Technically not my problem. Practically, they’re my customer, and they don’t care which Slack channel the hiccup lives in.

Sometimes the right answer is waiving a fee for someone who needs a win, even when the policy says I don’t have to. Policy is the org chart. The person on the Zoom call is the brother.

And it cuts both ways. The best leaders I’ve worked with never said “not my job” out loud. I wrote about a COO assembling desks a while back. Nobody asked him to. He just didn’t think of the new office as somebody else’s problem.

So the next time “I’m not my brother’s keeper” is on the tip of your tongue, run it through three questions first. It takes about ten seconds:

Is this beyond me, or just beside me? “I can’t” and “it’s not mine” feel the same in the moment. They aren’t.
Who’s downstream? Remember the plural bloods. The person in front of you has a team, a family, customers of their own.
What’s the smallest thing I could do? You don’t have to own it. You might just have to point it to the right person, out loud, today.

Most of the time the answer is a lot smaller than taking over. It’s just not walking past it.

You don’t have to be everyone’s keeper. You just can’t pretend you didn’t see them.

What I Want Yael and Diana to Hear

Yael and Diana are at the age where “that’s not mine” is basically a legal defense. Toys on the floor? Not mine. Juice on the couch? Somebody else did it. (If you live with a three-year-old, you know “somebody else” is a very busy person.)

If I have to argue for someone to clean up the toys, so that Mazi doesn’t have to deal with it, one more time I may lose my patience.

I don’t expect them to read and understand Genesis 4 anytime soon. But I want them to grow up knowing that the very first question in the Torah about other people is “where is your brother?” and that the right answer is never a shrug.

I want them to be the kid who notices the other kid sitting alone. The coworker who says, “Hey, did anyone follow up with her?” The adult who answers “where’s your brother?” with an actual location.

That’s not a heavy burden. It’s just a habit. And habits start at home, usually at the dinner table, usually with juice on the couch.

Shabbat shalom from Miami. This week, when we read Bereshit, I’m going to listen for that question a little differently.

Who’s someone in your life who never once said “not my job”? Tell me about them on LinkedIn . I’d love to give them a shout-out.

Download the infographic

How to Write an About Page That Doesn't Read Like a Résumé

Wed, 07 Oct 2026 13:56:00 GMT

I’ll admit it: the About page is where I’ve watched more business owners stall than any other page on their site.

The homepage? They’ll knock that out. Services? Easy, it’s a list. Contact page? Phone number, done.

But ask someone to write three paragraphs about themselves and suddenly it’s like I asked them to give a toast at a wedding they weren’t invited to.

So they freeze. Or worse, they write this:

“Founded in 2009, we are a client-focused team dedicated to delivering excellence through innovative solutions and a passion for quality.”

Ugh. I’ve read some version of that sentence more times than I’ve seen the Dolphins miss the playoffs. (Okay, maybe not that many. But it’s close.)

Here’s the thing: your About page isn’t really about you. And once you get that, it gets a whole lot easier to write.

Why Every About Page Sounds the Same

Part of my job at DoorLoop is helping business owners get their sites built and live, and that means I’ve seen a lot of About page copy come through. The same phrases show up over and over:

“Passionate about what we do”
“Customer-focused” (as opposed to… customer-avoidant?)
“A one-stop shop”
“Committed to excellence”
“We go above and beyond”

None of those are lies. That’s the problem. They’re true about everybody, so they say nothing about you. If you can swap your company name for your competitor’s and the sentence still works, it isn’t doing its job.

I wrote a while back about how your value prop isn’t broken, you just don’t know your own story . The About page is where that problem shows up the loudest. It’s the one page that’s supposed to be the story, and most of us fill it with a mission statement instead.

Your About Page Is a “Can I Trust You?” Page

Think about why someone clicks “About” in the first place.

They’re not bored. They’re deciding. They’ve probably got your site open in one tab and two competitors in the others, and they’re trying to figure out which one of you won’t burn them.

They’re asking: Who are these people? Are they real? Do they get someone like me?

I’ve written before that people think they’re buying a website, but they’re really buying emotional security . Same thing happens here, one page down. Your visitor isn’t reading your About page to learn your founding year. They’re reading it to feel safe saying yes.

Nobody reads your About page to learn about you. They read it to find out if you get them.

That one shift changes everything about how you write it. You stop listing credentials and start answering the questions in your visitor’s head.

How Do You Write an About Page for Your Website?

Write it for the visitor: say who you help and what problem you solve, tell the short real story of why you do it, back it up with proof, show a real face, and end with one clear next step.

That’s the whole recipe. Here’s the structure I’d hand any small business owner staring at a blank page. Most About pages only need these five things, in roughly this order:

Open with them, not you. First line names who you help and what you help them with. “We help Miami landlords who are tired of chasing rent every month.” Your visitor should see themselves before they see you.
Tell the real “why,” in three sentences max. Why’d you start this? Not the polished version. The real one. Got fed up with how the industry treated people? Saw a gap nobody filled? That’s your story, and it’s yours alone.
Prove it. Reviews from real customers, how long you’ve been doing it, a number you can stand behind, a photo of actual work. One specific proof point beats ten adjectives. (And please, never invent a stat. People can smell it.)
Show a real face. A photo of you or your team, not stock models laughing at a salad. People trust people. A slightly awkward real photo beats a perfect fake one every time.
Give one next step. End with a single clear button: book a call, get a quote, see the work. Not five options. One.

Want a starter sentence for part one? Fill this in:

“We help [who you serve] [do what] so they can [what they really want].”

Say you run a small cleaning company in Kendall. “We provide professional cleaning solutions” becomes “We clean homes for busy Kendall families so their weekends go back to being weekends.” Same business. One of those sentences sounds like a person.

Keep going with that same made-up cleaning company and the whole top of the page might read like this: “We clean homes for busy Kendall families so their weekends go back to being weekends. I started this after ten years of watching big companies send a different stranger every visit, so we send the same two people every time. Our reviews say it better than I can.” Then a real photo, three real reviews, and one button that says “Get a quote.”

That’s a page someone can trust. Took three sentences.

What to Cut (Yes, the Mission Statement)

Now the fun part: deleting stuff. Here’s what I’d take out of most About pages:

The mission statement. If it has “innovative,” “solutions,” or “excellence” in it, nobody’s reading it. Put the idea into a normal sentence or let it go.
Your full résumé. Your visitor doesn’t need your college GPA. They need to know why you’re good at this .
The company timeline. “2011: Moved to a bigger office” is exciting for you and your landlord. For everyone else, skip it.
“We” with no humans in sight. If you’re a team of one, say “I.” It’s more trustworthy, not less. I built a whole division as a team of one, and pretending to be a big faceless “we” would’ve helped nobody.

If a sentence could live on your competitor’s site, it doesn’t belong on yours.

The Playground Test

You know who’s weirdly great at About pages? Five-year-olds.

When I encourage Yael to go introduce herself to a kid playing alone at the park (a thing I wrote about in teaching my girls chutzpah ), nobody’s opening with credentials. Nobody at the swings cares about anyone’s résumé. Kids lead with “Want to play?” They start with the other person.

That’s the energy your About page needs. Less “Founded in 2009.” More “Hey, I think I can help you with that.”

And look, writing about yourself is uncomfortable for almost everyone. I’ve been building personal brands for years and I still squirm doing my own. The trick is to stop writing about yourself and start writing to the one person on the other side of the screen who’s trying to decide if you’re the one.

So here’s your homework (and yes, I’m a dad, homework is my love language): open your About page right now. Run the swap test. Cut every line your competitor could post. Then rewrite the top sentence so it starts with who you help.

That’s maybe twenty minutes. And it might be the most valuable twenty minutes you spend on your website this year, because the people reading that page are the ones who are this close to picking up the phone.

If you get stuck, that’s literally what I do over at Zossoz . I promise I won’t use the word “excellence” once.

Send me your About page’s first line on LinkedIn . I’ll tell you if it passes the swap test.

The swap test

Before you publish, read every sentence on your About page and ask: could my biggest competitor post this exact line? If yes, rewrite it or cut it. Whatever survives is your actual About page.

Download the infographic

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

What Wile E. Coyote Can Teach You About Chasing the Wrong Metrics

Tue, 22 Sep 2026 23:36:02 GMT

The catalog never once got returned

Picture the gag. You know it even if you haven’t watched Looney Tunes in twenty years. Wile E. Coyote is standing at the edge of a canyon, Road Runner is a speck of dust and a “meep meep” in the distance, and the coyote reaches into an ACME crate for whatever he ordered this week. Rocket-powered roller skates. A pair of spring-loaded boxing gloves. A tunnel painted so convincingly on a rock face that, in the cartoon’s own logic, it sometimes actually works, right up until it doesn’t. Ten seconds later he’s a coyote-shaped smear at the bottom of the canyon, dusting himself off, already flipping to the next page of the catalog.

He never got faster. He never got smarter about terrain, wind, or the fact that a bird with turbo legs was never getting caught by a guy strapped to a rocket he didn’t know how to steer. He just kept ordering. New gadget, same cliff.

That’s the whole bit, and it’s been the whole bit since the 1940s, which is probably part of why “Coyote vs. Acme,” the new movie built around this exact premise, hits theaters August 28. I haven’t seen it and I won’t pretend to know its plot twists. But the setup alone, a coyote and a corporation, is enough to get me thinking about something that has nothing to do with birds or deserts.

Does any of this sound like your marketing stack?

Why buying the tool feels like doing the work

Here’s the uncomfortable part. Wile E. Coyote isn’t dumb. He’s actually a pretty gifted engineer, in cartoon terms. He can assemble a catapult in ninety seconds flat, wire up a rocket sled with two paws and his teeth, and read a blueprint upside down while running full speed. He’s relentless, too. Most creatures would’ve quit chasing lunch after the fourth trip to the bottom of a canyon. If effort and cleverness were the whole game, he’d have eaten well years ago.

His real problem was never his skill with the equipment. It was his relationship to the equipment. Every failure produced the exact same conclusion: I need a different tool. Not once did he sit down and ask whether “chase a much faster animal across open desert using increasingly elaborate contraptions” was ever a sound strategy in the first place. The gadget was always the answer, because ordering the gadget felt like doing something.

That’s the psychology worth sitting with. Buying a new tool is a decision you can make in an afternoon. It has a receipt. It shows up as an action item you can check off, a Slack message you can send your team, a line item you can point to when someone asks what you’re doing about growth. Fixing your actual strategy, the positioning, the offer, the process that’s supposed to turn a stranger into a customer, is slower, messier, and doesn’t come with a checkout page. So the tool wins. Not because it works better. Because it’s easier to buy than to think.

I see this constantly with the small businesses and marketers I talk to. New SEO plugin. New AI writing tool. New CRM that promises to finally organize the chaos. New ad platform that’s supposedly where “everyone” is finding customers now. Each purchase carries this little hit of relief, like you’ve made progress. Then three months later the metrics haven’t moved, and the answer isn’t to ask why. It’s to order the next thing.

Activity feels like progress. It usually isn’t the same thing.

The parallel is closer than it’s comfortable to admit

I’ll be honest with you: I’ve caught myself doing this. When you’re building something from nothing, and I mean truly from nothing, the instinct to reach for a tool instead of fixing the underlying system is strong, and it never fully goes away.

I built DoorLoop’s Websites Division starting in November 2022, from zero, essentially as a team of one. We’ve since published over 1,000 sites. In those early days especially, every time something wasn’t converting the way I wanted, or a process felt clunky, or output wasn’t scaling the way I needed it to, the first instinct was almost always the same: is there a tool for this? A plugin, a script, an automation, some piece of software that would make the friction go away without me having to look directly at the friction.

Sometimes that instinct was right. Tools genuinely do solve real problems, and I’m not writing a love letter to doing everything the hard way by hand forever. But I’ve noticed, looking back honestly at my own patterns, that the tool-shopping instinct got loudest exactly when the actual problem was uncomfortable to look at. It’s a lot more pleasant to research a new piece of software for an hour than to admit the process underneath it was never designed well, or that the offer itself wasn’t resonating, or that I was trying to automate my way around a decision I hadn’t actually made yet.

That’s the real parallel to the coyote. He wasn’t slow because he lacked rocket skates. He was slow because rocket skates were never going to fix a strategy problem. You cannot gadget your way out of a bad plan. You can only delay finding that out, sometimes for years, one purchase at a time.

And here’s the part that stings a little: every individual purchase can look completely reasonable in isolation. Nobody sits down and thinks, “I’m about to make an irrational decision.” The SEO plugin genuinely might help. The new CRM genuinely might be better designed than the old one. That’s what makes this trap so effective. It’s not one bad decision, it’s a long string of individually defensible ones that never add up to an actual plan, because no single purchase was ever asked to justify itself against the strategy underneath it. You end up with a garage full of rocket skates and zero theory of how you’re actually going to catch anything.

I think about this a lot in the context of “scale through systems, retain through humans,” which is more or less how I approach the DoorLoop work. Systems and automation are supposed to create capacity for better judgment, not substitute for having any judgment at all. A CRM doesn’t know who your customer is. An AI writing tool doesn’t know what you actually stand for. Those are strategy questions. No catalog answers them for you, no matter how thick it is.

The Apple lesson underneath all of it

Years ago, working at the Apple Store in Aventura, my manager Steve Caliendo used to say something simple: represent the brand, have fun doing it, make lives better. Notice what’s not in there. No mention of which register system to use, what script to read off, which upsell tool to lean on. It was never about the equipment. It was about knowing exactly what you were there to do, and letting the tools serve that, instead of the other way around.

I think about that line more now than I did when I first heard it. Apple had plenty of tools, plenty of systems, plenty of process. None of it was the point. The point was always the person in front of you and whether their life got a little easier because you were there. Tools that served that goal earned their place. Tools that just existed for their own sake, however impressive, didn’t matter. Small businesses could stand to borrow that filter. Before a piece of software earns a spot in your stack, it should have to answer a very simple question: whose life does this actually make better, and how do you know?

A gut-check before you buy the next thing

So how do you actually tell the difference between solving a real problem and just shopping? Here’s the quick framework I use on myself now, before I let a new tool anywhere near my budget or my calendar.

Ask what specifically is broken, in one sentence, without naming a tool. If you can’t describe the actual problem without describing a solution (“I need better SEO software”), you probably haven’t found the problem yet. Try again: “Our blog traffic isn’t converting into leads.” Now you’re getting somewhere, and notice that sentence doesn’t require buying anything to be true.

Ask if you’ve already tried fixing this with what you have. Most tool purchases skip this step entirely. Before assuming your CRM is the problem, have you actually used the one you’ve got the way it was designed to be used? A shocking number of small business “tool problems” are actually “we never finished setting up the last tool” problems wearing a disguise.

Ask what happens if the new tool works perfectly and the strategy underneath is still wrong. This is the coyote question. If your positioning is fuzzy, your offer isn’t compelling, or you don’t actually know who you’re trying to reach, the fanciest automation in the world just helps you fail faster and more efficiently. Speed isn’t the fix when direction is the problem.

Ask whether you’re buying clarity or buying comfort. Clarity means you now understand your customer, your funnel, or your message better than you did an hour ago. Comfort means you feel like you did something productive today. Only one of those actually moves the needle, and it’s rarely the one that comes with a free trial.

If you run your next purchase through those four questions honestly, you’ll catch yourself a lot of the time. Not always. I still catch myself reaching for the easy fix now and then. But a lot more often than before.

What actually catches the Road Runner

Here’s the thing nobody says out loud about that cartoon: even in the world of the show, the tools were never really the obstacle. A coyote who sat down, studied the terrain, figured out the Road Runner’s actual patterns, and built one well-considered plan instead of forty rushed ones probably stood a real shot. He just never gave himself the chance to find out, because the next page of the catalog was always more exciting than the hard work of thinking clearly.

Small businesses have that same shot, all the time. It just doesn’t look like a new subscription. It looks like sitting with your actual customer, your actual offer, and your actual numbers long enough to know what’s really broken before you go shopping for what fixes it. That part’s slower. It doesn’t come gift-wrapped. But it’s the only version of “catching the Road Runner” that was ever real.

I’d genuinely love to hear where you’ve caught yourself doing this, tool-shopping instead of strategy-fixing, because I promise you’re not the only one, and I’m not either. Send me a message and let’s talk it through. Sometimes the fastest way off the cliff’s edge is just having someone point out you’re standing on painted rock.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Everyone Stands Up for the Last Hour of Yom Kippur

Mon, 21 Sep 2026 13:59:15 GMT

I’ll admit it: for most of Yom Kippur, I’m not exactly a spiritual giant.

Early on, I’m locked in. Fully present, the whole deal. By the afternoon I’m mostly wondering whether the guy two rows up is also thinking about bagels. By late afternoon I’m running a quiet cost-benefit analysis on sitting back down.

And then Neilah starts, and the entire room changes.

Wait, There’s a Fifth Service?

Quick context for anyone who didn’t grow up with this stuff. Yom Kippur has five services, which is one more than any other day on the Jewish calendar. The fifth one is Neilah, and the name means “closing.” As in, the gates.

That’s not a poetic flourish somebody added in the 1800s. The Mishnah calls it exactly that , “the closing of the gates,” and names Yom Kippur as one of the only days it belongs on. It runs roughly the last hour of the fast, right as the sun goes down.

Here’s what happens in that hour. The ark stays open the whole time. Most people stand for all of it, including the ones who’ve been parked in a seat since morning. And the words shift from asking to be written in the book to asking to be sealed in it.

Different verb. Same request. Much shorter runway.

People who mumbled through the entire afternoon suddenly mean every syllable.

Nothing changed except how much time was left.

Every Website Launch Has a Neilah

I think about this every year, and not for especially holy reasons. I think about it because I’ve watched the same thing happen on website launches for almost four years running.

You know the client who goes quiet for three weeks of a build? Doesn’t answer the content questions, never opens the staging link, sends one thumbs-up emoji and vanishes.

Then the day before launch, suddenly they have notes. Real ones. Good ones, sometimes. They finally tell you what the business does and why the headline was wrong the whole time.

I used to find that infuriating. (I may still find it a little infuriating. I’m a work in progress.)

But it isn’t laziness, and it usually isn’t disrespect. For three weeks, there was always more time. The gate was open. And a person with an open gate does not tell you the hard, embarrassing, true thing about their business, because why would they? They can do that later.

Then later runs out.

Urgency doesn’t make people honest. It just takes away the option of not being.

That’s the part I had backwards for a long time. I kept trying to manufacture urgency earlier, which mostly meant emailing people more. All that does is teach them your deadlines are decorative.

So Move the Gate, Don’t Yell at It

At DoorLoop I run the custom websites division as a team of one, past a thousand sites now, which means I can’t afford a Neilah on every single project. Three weeks of silence followed by one frantic hour is a great way to blow up a Tuesday.

So I stopped trying to make people care sooner and started closing gates sooner instead. Three things that have worked:

Say what closes, and when. Not “let me know by Friday.” More like: “Friday is when homepage copy locks, and after that, changes move to the next cycle.” A deadline with no consequence attached isn’t a gate. It’s a suggestion wearing a calendar invite.
Ask the embarrassing question in week one. “What’s the thing you’re worried people will figure out about your business?” Nobody answers that in week four. They answer it early, when it’s abstract, or they answer it in the last hour, when it’s expensive.
Change the posture. Neilah works partly because everybody stands up. Same principle on a call: when you need the real answer, stop screen-sharing. Close the deck. Ask one question and shut up. The shape of the room tells people which mode they’re in.

None of that is spiritual. It’s the same mechanism the rabbis clocked a couple thousand years ago, pointed at a homepage.

Don’t Turn This Into a Productivity Hack

Here’s the thing though. If the only thing you take out of Neilah is a scheduling tip, you’ve kind of robbed it.

Because the reason that hour hits isn’t efficiency. You ever been in a room where everybody drops the act at the same second? A room full of tired, hungry, slightly cranky people, all out of energy to perform, all standing anyway. That’s one of the few genuinely un-fakeable things left.

And then it ends with one long shofar blast, the ark closes, and somebody’s uncle is already asking about the food.

I love that part. The holiest minute of the year is followed immediately by a hallway debate about whether there’s enough lox. That’s not a failure of the moment. That’s Judaism refusing to let you stay on the mountain.

I wrote a recently that Yom Kippur doesn’t cover what you did to people , which is still the part I find hardest. Neilah is the other half of it. The day tells you what you owe.

The last hour tells you the window isn’t open forever.

The Part Where I Bring It Home

Yael is five now and Diana just turned three, so neither of them is standing through Neilah anytime soon. (Diana’s current relationship with standing still is adversarial at best.) They’ll be somewhere in the building being loud, which is the correct use of a synagogue when you’re three.

But I want them to eventually feel that hour. Not the fasting part. The part where a whole room stops negotiating.

Because the rest of the year, we all get to operate like the gate is open. There’s always next quarter, next season, next conversation. Miami runs entirely on that energy (we are a city that shows up fashionably late to events we ourselves are hosting). Neilah is the yearly reminder that some doors do close, and the honest version of you tends to show up right before they do.

So why wait for the last hour?

Tzom kal to everyone fasting tonight. Tell me what your version of the last hour is; I’m on LinkedIn, probably thinking about bagels.

Round Three of Revisions Is Never About the Design

Sun, 20 Sep 2026 04:16:17 GMT

You ever hit that point in a project where someone says, “Can we just see one more version?”

Sure. Of course. Happy to.

And then you’re on round three, round four is getting scheduled like a dentist appointment nobody wants, and you get that feeling in your chest. The one where the work stopped being the problem a while ago and you can’t say when.

I’ve shipped more than a thousand websites at DoorLoop, mostly as a team of one, which means I’ve sat through more revision rounds than any reasonable adult should. Somewhere in there I noticed a pattern that took me an embarrassingly long time to name out loud.

Round one is taste. Round two is detail. Round three is a decision nobody ever made.

The Tell

Round one sounds like taste. “I don’t love the blue.” “Can the logo be bigger?” (It can always be bigger. It should almost never be bigger.)

Easy. You fix it, you move on, everybody’s happy.

Round two sounds like detail. “This should say services, not solutions.” “Move the phone number up.”

Also easy. Also fine. This is the part of the job people think is the whole job.

Round three sounds like this:

“I think we’re close. I just… something’s not right.”

That’s the note. No direction, no fix, no example. Just a vague unease from someone who has now looked at their own business on a screen three separate times and still doesn’t recognize it.

Here’s the thing though. That’s not a design problem showing up late. That’s the first time anyone has made them look at what their company claims to be, in a font, above the fold, where their customers can read it.

And they don’t love the answer.

What They’re Actually Arguing About

I spend far more of my week in conversations than in Duda , which I’ve written about before: people think they’re buying a website, and they’re really buying emotional security . Round three is where that bill comes due.

Listen to what comes back at that stage and translate it:

“Can we try a different template?” (Translation: I don’t want to say out loud that I don’t know who this is for.)

“My business partner has some thoughts.” (Translation: the two of us have never agreed on what we sell, and your homepage just put it in writing.)

“It feels a little corporate.” (Translation: I want to sound bigger than I am and smaller than I am, at the same time, please solve that.)

None of those are notes about a website. They’re notes about a company.

A color picker has never once fixed a positioning problem. You can swap the hero image seven times, and if the business offers six services but can only explain two of them, the eighth hero image isn’t going to save anybody.

Why the Third Round Is Good News

I know how that sounds. Doom and gloom, another round, run for the hills.

But that discomfort is information. It shows up on schedule, it’s honest, and it points straight at the thing the business has been avoiding. Most owners never get a moment like that. They just quietly wonder for years why their marketing sounds like everybody else’s.

You’re getting it on a Tuesday, with a deadline attached, from someone who’s already on your calendar.

The mistake is treating it like a design ticket. You make the change, they say it’s better but still not right, and now you’re in round four doing a rebrand by accident, one revision at a time, with nobody’s name on the decision.

Three Questions That End Round Three

When I hit that “something’s not right” note, I stop making versions. I ask three things, in this order:

“Who’s the one person you want to call you after they see this?” Not a persona. A person. Say, a property manager in Tampa with four buildings and a bad experience with her last vendor. Most people can answer this instantly, and then the page mostly writes itself.
“What do you want them to believe by the time they scroll past the first section?” One sentence. If it takes three, that’s the real problem, and now we both know it.
“What are we saying no to?” This one hurts. A brand that serves everybody reads like it serves nobody, and round three is usually just grief about narrowing.

Fifteen minutes on those beats another week of versions. Every time.

This Isn’t a Web Design Thing

Look, it’s everywhere.

The deck that keeps getting reformatted is a deck where nobody agreed on the ask. The hiring process stuck on candidate number nine is a team that never decided what the role is. The Dolphins spend most of every offseason on round three of revisions (I say this with love, and with the calm of a man who has already accepted how this season ends).

When work keeps coming back and nobody can say why, stop polishing. Somebody skipped a decision upstream, and every round after that is a negotiation about that decision, dressed up as feedback about the font.

Ask better questions earlier and you buy back entire weeks.

That’s most of what I do at Zossoz . Helping people say what they mean before they pay somebody to typeset it.

And I’m not immune, before you ask. My five year old has been asking why about everything since she could talk , and I’ve written before about making myself answer instead of getting annoyed. Then I walk into a client call and my first instinct is still to open the design file and start nudging things around.

She figured out the technique before I did. Ask the question. Then ask it again, until the answer is real.

So the next time you’re staring down round three, put the mouse down and start asking.

Ever been stuck in a revision loop that had nothing to do with design? Tell me about it on LinkedIn , I collect these.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Raising Independent Kids Is Easy Until You're the One Watching

Wed, 16 Sep 2026 13:39:00 GMT

You ever catch yourself doing the exact opposite of the thing you tell everyone you believe?

I say I want my daughters to be independent. Out loud. To other parents. With a completely straight face.

Then I stand four feet behind Diana on a playground structure that is maybe eighteen inches off the ground, hands half out, doing the thing. You know the thing. The hover. (If you’ve done it, you know there’s a specific crouch involved. I’ve perfected mine.)

Yael is five. Diana turned three eleven days ago. Neither one of them is walking to a friend’s house anytime soon. So why did a survey about eight-year-olds have me rethinking how I stand at a park?

The Number That Made Me Put My Phone Down

The Institute for Family Studies ran a survey of American parenting culture with close to 24,000 parents. One line in it stopped me cold.

Five-year-olds in this country average about thirty minutes a week outside without an adult watching.

Thirty minutes. A week. Not thirty minutes a day at the park while you scroll nearby, which is what I assumed when I first read it. Thirty minutes total, across seven days, with nobody watching.

By seventeen it climbs all the way up to 2.4 hours a week, and more than 60% of kids that age still aren’t allowed past their own neighborhood. Seventeen. A year from a dorm room (where the supervision budget drops to zero overnight, which nobody seems to want to talk about).

And then the part that really got me: 62% of the parents surveyed said kids ages 8 to 12 are under -supervised. Under. We are handing five-year-olds half an hour of rope a week and the majority of us think the problem is that we’ve gotten too loose.

We’re not arguing about how much freedom to give our kids. We’re arguing about who gets blamed.

Helicopter Versus Free Range Is the Wrong Fight

The internet loves this one because it sorts neatly into two teams. Helicopter parents over here, free-range parents over there, everybody grab a jersey.

I don’t buy it. Not because the research is soft ( Peter Gray at Boston College has spent a career on this, and the link between overprotection and anxiety keeps showing up), but because almost nobody I know lives in a camp. We agree with the free-range people in the abstract and then behave like helicopter parents in the parking lot. I do it constantly.

Here’s the thing: the decision never arrives as a philosophy. It arrives as one second.

Your kid is on the second step of something. Do you say “careful,” or do you say nothing?

Saying nothing is a skill, and most of us have never once practiced it.

I Learned This Watching Grandparents Hold an iPhone

I spent five years on the floor at the Apple Store in Aventura , starting in 2007. The customers I still think about are the grandparents, who would come in holding an iPhone the way you hold something that might bite you.

And every single time, the instinct was to take the phone. Just do it for them. Eleven seconds, problem solved, everybody’s smiling.

Except they’d walk out having learned nothing, and they’d be back the following week with the same question. The wins that stuck were the slow ones, where you kept your hands in your pockets and said “try tapping the blue one” about nine times in a row until their whole face changed.

My manager Steve Caliendo had a line he repeated until it lodged permanently in my brain: represent the brand, have fun, make lives better. Took me years to notice that the fastest way to make someone’s life better is almost never the one where you do it for them.

Doing it for someone is the generous-looking version of doing it for yourself.

That lesson followed me. I’ve spent four years building the websites division at DoorLoop as a team of one, past 1,000 published sites (which is either impressive or a cry for help, depending on the week). The way that math works at all is scale through systems, retain through humans.

Which means the actual job, dozens of times a week, is deciding whether this customer needs me to fix it or needs me to watch them fix it.

Get that wrong in one direction and you’re a bottleneck with a nice personality. Get it wrong the other way and you’re the vendor who wouldn’t help.

Same muscle as the playground. Same one second.

And I get way more reps at work than I do with my own kids, which is a strange sentence to type about the two people I care most about on the planet.

Three Questions Before I Step In

So I stole my own work framework and pointed it at parenting. It’s three questions, and they take about four seconds, which is usually three seconds longer than my instincts want to wait.

Question three is undefeated. It has yet to let me off the hook.

Because a lot of what looks like protecting your kid is really just protecting yourself from watching them struggle for eleven seconds. I don’t love that about myself, but pretending otherwise hasn’t made me a better dad.

What I’m Actually Practicing For

Yael is going to ask to walk somewhere by herself. Probably sooner than I want, and definitely before I feel ready, because that’s how all of this seems to go.

The answer I give her that day isn’t going to come from a study. It’s going to come from whatever I built up in the thousand small moments before it. The second step. The puzzle piece she almost had. The shoe she can absolutely put on herself if I would just stop narrating it.

Miami makes this a little easier, honestly. The park is a year-round proposition here, which means there’s no season where I get to skip the reps. (There’s also no season where I get to skip the humidity, but that’s a different post.)

I wrote a while back about always answering “why” , even when it’s the fifteenth time and I’m exhausted. This is the same project from the other side. Answering every question builds a kid who asks. Shutting up at the right moment builds a kid who tries.

I’m not trying to raise kids who don’t need me. I’d just rather be the guy they come find than the guy who was already standing there.

What’s the one thing you’re still doing for your kid that they could obviously do themselves? Tell me on LinkedIn . I collect these, mostly so I feel better about the shoe thing.

1. Is this dangerous, or is it just uncomfortable? And be specific about who it’s uncomfortable for. Nine times out of ten the answer is me.

2. What does it actually cost if this goes badly? A scraped knee. A spilled cup. A customer who’s annoyed for one afternoon and fine by Thursday.

3. Who am I about to make feel better? Them, or me?

Yom Kippur Doesn't Cover What You Did to People

Sun, 13 Sep 2026 04:21:24 GMT

You know that apology you’ve been carrying around for months? The one you’ve rehearsed in the car, at a red light, maybe four separate times, and never once said out loud?

Yeah. That one.

Yom Kippur starts at sundown on Sunday, September 20 this year, which means we’re sitting in the ten days right now. And I hate to be the guy who brings this up with a week to go, but the fast doesn’t cover that apology. It was never going to.

The Loophole That Isn’t

A lot of us grew up half-understanding this holiday. We treat it like a reset button. Fast, show up, beat your chest a few times, walk out clean.

The Mishnah closes that door in one line. Mishnah Yoma 8:9 says that for things between a person and God, Yom Kippur atones. For things between a person and another person?

It doesn’t. Not until you go and appease the other person yourself.

No asterisk. No workaround. No “but I felt really bad about it in my heart.”

The holiest day on the Jewish calendar has a carve-out, and the carve-out is other people.

The same Mishnah adds a line I think about more than the famous one: whoever says “I’ll sin and repent, I’ll sin and repent” doesn’t get the chance. The system notices when you’re gaming it. (Which feels like something written by a person who had met other people.)

“Sorry You Feel That Way” Is Not an Apology

Now let me bring this into my day job, which is mostly Zoom calls with business owners who are nervous about their websites.

I run the custom websites division at DoorLoop , and I’ve written before that roughly 75% of that job is emotional, not technical . Which is a polite way of saying I get a lot of chances to be short with somebody, miss a detail, or answer a question in a tone that lands harder than I meant it to.

So I’ve heard every flavor of the corporate non-apology. You have too:

“Sorry for any confusion.”
“Sorry you feel that way.”
“We apologize for the inconvenience.”

Notice what all three have in common? Nobody’s in them. No person did anything. A confusion simply occurred. (Where does a confusion come from, exactly? It just rolls in off the bay, like the afternoon rain.)

An apology without a subject in the sentence isn’t an apology. It’s a press release.

When’s the last time you said sorry to someone without sneaking an “if” in there? That’s the actual standard the Mishnah is setting. Go to the person. Say the thing. Out loud, with your own mouth, in a sentence that starts with “I.”

The Rambam Wrote You a Script

Here’s the part I love, because it reads like an escalation policy somebody’s ops team would build.

In Hilchot Teshuva 2:9 , the Rambam walks you through it step by step:

Five steps, and the whole thing fits on an index card. (No slide deck, no offsite.) It’s tighter than most conflict training I’ve sat through, and I’ve sat through a few.

The Part That Stings

Step five has a twist I completely missed the first time I read it.

Once you’ve genuinely gone three times and the person still won’t forgive you, the Rambam says you stop. And then he adds something I didn’t see coming. The one refusing to forgive is now the one sinning.

The obligation transfers.

Turns out the person holding the grudge has homework too.

Which is inconvenient, because most of us are far more interested in the apology we’re owed than the one we owe. (I’ve been on both sides of this in the same week. Possibly the same day.)

There’s one exception, and it’s a good one. If the person you wronged was your teacher, you keep going. A thousand times, he says. Some relationships don’t get a three-strikes rule.

So. Eight Days.

I’m not going to pretend I’ve got a tidy list of calls to make and a color-coded schedule for making them.

But I keep landing back on something I wrote about Heschel : the showing up is the practice. And notice that the confessions we say on Yom Kippur are written in the plural. We betrayed, we robbed, we spoke badly. Not I. We.

The whole liturgy assumes you’re standing shoulder to shoulder with people you’ve got unfinished business with.

So before the sun goes down on the 20th, make the awkward call. Send the text that makes your stomach drop a little. Use a sentence with a subject in it: “I did this, and I’m sorry.”

Worst case, they say no, and the obligation isn’t yours anymore. Best case, you walk into Kol Nidre with a shorter list and a lighter chest.

Either way, you’ll have done the one part of the day nobody can do for you.

G’mar chatima tova from Miami. If there’s a call you’ve been working up to this week, go make it before the fast starts.

The five steps, written in the 1100s

Pay back what you owe. If it’s money, return the money. Obvious, but he leads with it for a reason.
Then apologize anyway. He’s explicit that making someone whole is not the same as asking forgiveness. The check is not the apology.
Words count as damage. “Even if a person only upset a colleague by saying things,” you still have to go ask. No severity threshold. No “it was just a comment.”
If they say no, go back. Bring three friends with you and ask again. Up to three times total.
After three, you stop. You’ve done your part. Put it down.

The Brand That Built Me: A Love Letter to Apple at 50

Thu, 02 Apr 2026 09:00:00 GMT

There are companies, and then there are experiences. Apple turned 50 this week, and honestly, I’ve been a little all over the place about how to write this. Because I could just rattle off product timelines and Steve Jobs quotes like everyone else on the internet right now. But that’s not really what this is. For me, Apple isn’t a tech story. It’s a personal one, and kind of embarrassingly so, in the best way.

So let’s go there.

It Started With an iPod

Before the iPod, I had one of those mp3 players that required you to consult what felt like a doctoral thesis just to load a song. You know the ones. Clunky, confusing, the kind of device that made you question your own intelligence on a Tuesday afternoon. And then I got an iPod, and I just… used it. No manual. No frustration. Music, instantly, in my pocket, organized exactly the way my brain wanted it organized.

I was 17 or 18, and I remember thinking, this is different. Not different like a new feature. Different like someone finally understood what I actually needed. That feeling stuck with me way longer than it probably should have.

The Night My Laptop Died (and Changed My Life)

Here’s a story I don’t love telling but can’t stop telling. It’s 2006. I’m taking film classes at Miami Dade College , sitting in my teacher’s office, and I finally hit play on my final project after begging for an extension. The screen goes black. The laptop, a Gateway running Avid, is just… gone. Completely fried. Project with it. It took everything I had not to completely fall apart right there in that office.

So I did what any reasonable person does after a traumatic technology experience: I researched obsessively for weeks until I found something I could actually trust. I bought a MacBook Pro. And I never, not once, looked back.

The switch wasn’t just practical. It was almost emotional. Everything felt faster, smoother, more intentional. The design, the weight of it, the way the screen came to life, it made me want to create things. I know how that sounds. But if you’ve ever made that switch yourself, you don’t need me to explain it. You just nod.

Five Years on the Floor at the Aventura Apple Store

In the fall of 2007, I walked into the Apple Store in Aventura and got a job. I was 21. I thought I was going to sell computers. I had absolutely no idea I was about to get one of the best educations of my professional life.

I worked there on and off for five years, and here’s what I wasn’t expecting: the people. All kinds of people. Every age, every comfort level with technology, every possible emotional state. The ones I think about most, even now, are the grandparents. They’d come in holding an iPhone like it might bite them. Convinced they were too old, too far behind, too set in their ways to figure any of this out.

And then, usually within about 30 minutes, something would just click. The fear would drain right out of their face. They’d realize, oh, I can FaceTime my grandkids. Right now. From this thing in my hand. And they’d look like a kid who just got exactly what they asked for on their birthday. That transformation, anxiety to pure wonder, never got old. Not once in five years.

And then there were the product launches. We’d show up at 4AM to start setting up, which sounds absolutely miserable and somehow never was. The energy was different. You felt like you were part of something bigger than a shift at a retail job. Lines wrapping around the building, people who’d camped overnight, this collective buzz of anticipation before the doors opened. I’d do every single one of those 4AM call times again without a second thought.

The Manager Who Gave Me a Philosophy for Life

Here’s the thing about great workplaces. They’re usually great because of one person who quietly sets the tone for everything. For us, that was Steve Caliendo.

Steve had this line he came back to constantly: “Represent the brand, have fun doing it, make lives better.” Ten words. No jargon, no quarterly framework, no laminated poster in the break room. Just a way of showing up that was simple enough to memorize and deep enough to actually live by. I use it to this day. It shapes how I run the website offering at DoorLoop . It’s in the DNA of Zossoz . It’s honestly how I try to parent, which, if you know me, is either inspiring or terrifying depending on the day.

But Steve wasn’t just a great manager in the “good feedback, solid one-on-ones” kind of way. He was genuinely invested in the people around him, almost like we were his kids. In 2008, I was very overweight, and I had an opportunity to go to weight loss camp as a camper. I needed two months off. I went to Steve, a little nervous about the ask, and he didn’t hesitate. Not even a little. He told me he couldn’t wait for me to come back healthier. And during that whole stretch, he was one of my loudest cheerleaders.

I don’t keep in touch with him as much as I should, and I genuinely regret that. But I think about him more than he probably knows, every single time I try to lead with that same kind of warmth he showed me.

What 50 Years Actually Means

Apple was founded on April 1, 1976, built on the belief that progress comes from people who challenge convention and imagine what could be. Fifty years later, they kicked off the anniversary with an Alicia Keys concert at Apple Grand Central and closed it out with Paul McCartney performing at Apple Park in Cupertino. Say what you want about the company, they know how to mark a moment.

But here’s what I keep coming back to, and it’s not the hardware. It’s the culture Apple built around it. The conviction that design isn’t decoration; it’s function. That simplicity isn’t laziness; it’s mastery. That you can be one of the most profitable companies on the planet and still make someone feel something when they open the box. That’s not easy. Most companies never figure it out.

What I’m Actually Passing Down

We’re an Apple family, full stop. Mazi’s on it. Yael, who is five, has already figured out how to navigate an iPad better than some adults I’ve met professionally, which is both impressive and slightly humbling. Diana has claimed every phone in the house as her personal camera and FaceTime device, apparently without anyone’s permission.

But the gadgets aren’t really the point. What I want my girls to absorb, from Apple and from everything else, is the philosophy underneath it all. Work hard at something you genuinely love. Help people however you can, because watching someone’s life get a little easier because of something you did? That feeling is not a small thing. And always push to make lives better.

Nine words. Steve said them in a retail back room in Aventura. Apple has been living them, imperfectly but earnestly, for 50 years.

Turns out that’s enough to build something that lasts.

Here’s to the next 50.

What’s your Apple origin story? Drop it in the comments. I’d genuinely love to know.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Why I've Been Quiet: Building AI-Powered Jewish Learning App

Fri, 13 Mar 2026 03:16:17 GMT

I haven’t posted much lately. Not because I ran out of hot takes about branding or leadership (trust me, those are endless), but because I’ve been buried in something I couldn’t stop building.

For the past several months, I’ve been heads-down on Derekh Learning , an iOS app that lives right at the intersection of everything I am: the tech guy who builds websites for a living, the proud Jew who grew up in day school, the AI optimist who thinks these tools can actually serve meaning instead of replacing it, and the person who believes ancient wisdom shouldn’t be locked behind barriers that don’t need to exist.

The problem I couldn’t ignore

Here’s the thing about Jewish learning: it’s profound, it’s beautiful, and it’s often stuck in formats that don’t fit modern life.

Rigid schedules. Intimidating entry points. One-size-fits-all approaches that assume everyone learns the same way, at the same pace, with the same questions. And look, I get it; tradition matters. But somewhere along the way, we made it harder than it needs to be for people to actually engage with the texts.

I kept thinking: what if Torah, Talmud, and Jewish wisdom could meet you where you are? What if learning felt like a conversation with a really smart friend instead of a performance you’re supposed to nail? What if the texts could speak to your actual questions about parenting (because Yael asks me wild stuff), work (because office politics is basically applied Talmud), purpose, identity, all of it?

And then the kicker: what if AI could help make that real?

What Derekh Learning actually is

Derekh Learning is a digital beit midrash where ancient texts meet modern curiosity. That’s the elevator pitch, anyway.

Here’s what that means in practice:

It’s personalized . Your derekh (path, literally “the way”) through Jewish learning goes at your pace, interests, and tries to help answer the questions you’re actually asking. No guilt if you miss a day. No one correct way to do it. Just consistent, curious engagement with the texts that have shaped us for millennia.

It’s built with AI , but not in the way you might think. I’m not trying to replace the soul of learning or turn Torah into ChatGPT. The technology helps surface connections you might not see, suggest pathways based on what you’re curious about, and meet you in the chaos of real life. You know, when you’ve got 10 minutes between meetings or during nap time (shoutout to parents everywhere).

It’s designed for people who want depth without having to leave their actual lives behind . Small daily practices. Modern questions. Ancient answers. Built for the curious, not just the scholars.

Why this mixes everything I am

I’m a technologist who believes tools should serve meaning, not replace it. I’ve spent years building websites that tell stories, and I wanted to build something that helps people write their own story through learning.

I’m a Jew who loves the texts and wants more people to feel at home in them. Growing up, I had access to incredible teachers and a community that made learning feel alive. Not everyone gets that, and it bugs me.

I’m someone who’s spent years thinking about AI and what it can unlock when used with intention. Not hype. Not shortcuts. Just smarter ways to connect people to what matters.

And yeah, I’m a Miami guy who thinks learning should have warmth, energy, and a little cafecito-fueled optimism. (And if your approach to Torah doesn’t have at least a hint of chutzpah, are you even doing it right?)

Derekh Learning is what happens when you let all of that collide.

What’s next

The app is live now in the App Store. Sign up today and use code FINDYOURDEREKH in the app setting for 50% off your first year. If you’ve ever been curious about Jewish learning but didn’t know where to start, or if you’ve been learning for years and want a new way to engage, I’d love for you to try it.

More to share soon about what we’re building, the ideas behind it, and the community taking shape around it. But for now: this is what I’ve been working on. This is my derekh.

And if you’ve got thoughts, questions, or just want to talk about how AI and ancient texts can coexist without the world ending, you know where to find me.

People Think They're Buying a Website. They're Really Buying Emotional Security

Fri, 29 Aug 2025 12:46:51 GMT

This is the second post in my four-part series about building DoorLoop’s website division from the ground up. If you missed the first one about how I went from “it won’t work” to 1,000+ websites , you might want to start there. Now, let’s talk about what actually happens behind the scenes once you’ve built the system…

You know that friend who calls you at 11 PM because they can’t figure out why their Netflix isn’t working? The one who’s convinced their laptop is “broken” when really they just need to restart it?

Yeah, well… that’s basically 75% of my job as Director of Customer Websites at DoorLoop .

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love what I do. But here’s the thing nobody tells you about website personalization: only about 25% of my time is actually spent in our Duda platform customizing sites. The other 75%? I’m part therapist, part teacher, part fortune teller, and part emotional support human for people who are absolutely terrified of making the wrong digital decision.

And honestly? I get it. This stuff can feel overwhelming when you’re trying to run a business and suddenly someone’s asking you to make decisions about fonts and color schemes like your entire future depends on it.

The Real Product Isn’t Templates; It’s Confidence

Early on in building this division, I had a client, let’s call her Sarah, who’d been burned by two previous web developers. Both projects went over budget, missed deadlines, and left her with a site that looked like it was designed in 2003 by someone’s cousin who “knew computers.”

Sarah came to our first call with a 47-item spreadsheet. Forty-seven. Items.

She wanted to know everything: What happens if she doesn’t like the template we choose? What if her competitor copies her design? What if mobile users can’t find her contact form? Can we change the fonts? What about custom colors to match her brand? How much extra would that cost?

Here’s what Sarah was really asking: “Can I trust you not to screw this up like everyone else did?”

That’s when I realized something crucial about this business. People think they’re hiring me to personalize a website template. But what they’re actually buying is emotional security. They want someone who’ll hold their hand through every decision, explain why Comic Sans isn’t included in our font options (yes, that was a real question), and convince them that their investment will actually help their business grow.

The Emotional Labor Nobody Talks About

Our process looks pretty straightforward on paper: we start with a proven template, swap in their content and images, and handle the technical setup through Duda . Want custom colors to match your brand? That’s an additional fee. Extra pages, custom elements, or major design changes? Those come with extra fees too, it’s all clearly laid out in our pricing structure .

But here’s what’s not on that pricing sheet: the hour I spend helping someone understand why Template A works better for property management companies than Template B, or the follow-up call where I walk them through how their headshots will look in different layouts.

Most days, I spend more time in Zoom calls than I do in Duda. I’m constantly managing expectations, walking clients through decision trees, and, let’s be real, talking people down from design panic attacks.

“What if we pick the wrong template and it doesn’t convert?” (Translation: “I’m terrified this investment won’t pay off.”)

“Can we make the logo bigger? Actually, smaller. Wait, what about the other template?” (Translation: “I have no idea what I want but I’ll know it when I see it.”)

“My friend’s website has this cool slider thing, can we add that?” (Translation: “I want all the bells and whistles but don’t understand the cost implications.”)

Every single interaction requires reading between the lines. You’ve got to figure out what they actually need versus what they think they need, and somehow guide them to smart decisions without making them feel foolish or micromanaged.

It’s like being a translator between human psychology and digital execution, which, if I’m being honest, wasn’t exactly what I thought I’d be doing when I took this role.

Teaching Decision-Making Through Templates

Here’s the beautiful thing about working with templates: instead of asking someone to envision their perfect website from scratch (which is absolutely paralyzing), I can show them three different directions with real examples:

Template A: Clean and professional (for the “we’re established experts” crowd)
Template B: Bold and modern (for the “we’re innovative disruptors” types)
Template C: Warm and community-focused (for the “we’re your neighborhood choice” folks)

Suddenly, decision-making becomes manageable. They’re not creating from nothing; they’re choosing from professionally designed options that I know work. The cognitive load drops, the anxiety decreases, and we can actually move forward.

But even then, I’m spending time explaining why certain templates work better for their industry, why we structure the content flow that way, why these design combinations will resonate with their audience. It’s not enough to deliver a great personalized site, you have to help clients understand and feel confident about their choices.

Think about it: when was the last time you made a big purchase without wanting to know the reasoning behind the recommendation?

The Sweet Spot: When to Break the Rules

Now here’s where this job gets really fun. Our pricing structure is crystal clear: template personalization includes basic customization, but color matching, additional elements, and extra pages cost extra. That’s how we keep projects profitable and timelines reasonable, lessons learned from scaling to over 1,000 websites .

But I’ve learned to use our conversations to figure out when to surprise and delight. When Sarah mentions she’s been struggling to explain her services clearly, and I realize adding one extra content section would solve that problem, sometimes I just… do it. No charge.

“You know what, Sarah? I think an FAQ section would really help your visitors understand your process. Let me add that in, I can tell it’ll make a huge difference for your business.”

These aren’t random acts of kindness; they’re strategic moments where a small gesture creates massive value. I listen for those opportunities where breaking our usual rules will genuinely transform their results. The smile in someone’s voice when they realize you’ve gone above and beyond? That’s the stuff that makes this job incredible.

Plus, let’s be honest, it’s fun to be the hero sometimes.

The Hidden Psychology of Web Design

What I’ve really become is a translator between human psychology and digital execution through templates. My clients come to me with business goals, but what they’re really wrestling with is identity, trust, and fear.

They’re afraid their competitors look more professional. They’re worried potential customers won’t take them seriously. They’re convinced that if they don’t have the perfect website, they’ll somehow fail at business.

The technical stuff, the responsive design, the loading speed optimization, the SEO fundamentals , that’s just table stakes. Duda handles most of that beautifully in the background. The real skill is helping someone see which template truly represents their brand, build confidence in their message, and create a digital presence that actually converts visitors into customers.

Sometimes that means gently steering them toward a simpler template when they’re attracted to something overly complex. Sometimes it means explaining why their “quick addition” would actually require custom development (and the associated costs). And sometimes it means being the voice of reason when they want to cram every possible feature onto their homepage.

You ever try to help someone choose a restaurant when they say they’re “open to anything” but then shoot down every suggestion? Yeah, it’s a lot like that.

Why I Actually Love the 75%

Look, I could complain about spending most of my time in conversations instead of in Duda, but honestly? This is my favorite part of the job. Anyone can learn to customize templates. Not everyone can guide anxious business owners through complex decisions while building genuine relationships.

When someone calls me six months later to tell me their website is generating leads they never expected, or when they refer their friend because “AJ really gets it,” that’s not because I’m a Duda wizard. It’s because I took the time to understand what they actually needed and helped them feel confident about their choices.

The personalized website is just the final product. The real transformation happens in all those conversations along the way.

Every call is like a puzzle: How do I help this person articulate their value? Which template will serve their goals best? Where can I surprise them with something extra that’ll make their day? I genuinely look forward to these conversations because each one teaches me something new about business, about people, about what actually matters in digital marketing.

There’s something deeply satisfying about taking someone from “I have no idea what I’m doing” to “I’m actually excited about this website.” It’s like watching someone learn to ride a bike, except the bike is their entire digital presence and the stakes feel way higher.

What This Actually Means for You

If you’re thinking about a website project, whether it’s time for a refresh or you’re building your first professional site, here’s what I wish more people knew:

Budget for the relationship, not just the deliverables. Good website personalization isn’t just about picking templates and swapping images; it’s about partnership, communication, and building something that actually serves your business goals.

Find someone who asks as many questions about your customers and your vision as they do about your content and images. The best website consultants aren’t just order-takers, they’re guides who can bridge the gap between what you think you need and what actually works.

And if you’re working with someone who seems to be spending a lot of time talking through decisions with you? That’s not inefficiency, that’s the most important part of the process. Lean into it.

The conversations, the guidance, the occasional surprise upgrade, that’s where the real value lives. Because honestly, the best websites aren’t just well-built, they’re well-understood.

Website personalization is really about building confidence through proven templates and genuine partnership. If you’re ready for both the technical excellence and the personal attention that goes into creating something meaningful, let’s talk. And if you’re curious about how I built this system from scratch, check out the full story in my intrapreneurial success series .

Speaking of building systems from scratch, next week I’m pulling back the curtain on something that might surprise you: I didn’t just inherit a website division, I had to invent one. No templates, no playbook, no team, just me figuring out how to systematize everything from intake forms to revision workflows while still delivering results. If you’ve ever wondered what it actually takes to build operational systems that scale, that’s what we’re diving into next.

And if you’re buying a website right now and this post felt uncomfortably accurate, that’s the conversation I have every day at Zossoz .

Because the magic isn’t just in the final site, it’s in the journey of getting there.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

From "It Won't Work" to 1,000+ Websites: My Intrapreneurial Success Story

Sun, 24 Aug 2025 14:32:41 GMT

You know those moments in movies where the underdog walks into a room full of suits, gets told something’s impossible, and just… smirks? Yeah, that was me in May 2022, sitting across from DoorLoop’s CEO and CMO in their office, having what I thought was going to be a conversation about expanding our service offerings.

Except instead of champagne and high-fives, I got this: “Just so you know, we tried building a website division at our last company. We couldn’t make it work.”

My response? “Cool, I won’t fail.”

Not exactly the humble, “I’ll do my best” energy you’d expect from someone who’d been doing onboarding and support since September 2021, right? But here’s the thing, I wasn’t being cocky. I was being strategic . And maybe I had just a little bit of chutzpah .

The Room Where It (Almost) Didn’t Happen

Picture this: I’m sitting in their office on what was probably another sweltering South Florida afternoon, still riding the high from eight months of helping customers navigate DoorLoop’s platform. I’d been watching our clients struggle with their digital presence daily, fielding questions about their terrible websites and listening to them complain about conversion rates.

So when they asked if I’d be interested in trying to build a website division, I was intrigued. What I wasn’t expecting was the immediate disclaimer that followed: the corporate equivalent of “It’s not you, it’s us.”

The previous attempt? A website division that burned through resources, failed to gain traction, and left everyone with the kind of PTSD that makes business leaders break out in cold sweats whenever someone mentions “custom websites.” The problem, as I’d later learn, was that it wasn’t systematized well and allowed way too much customization. Classic mistake, trying to be everything to everyone instead of being really, really good at one thing.

Most people would’ve nodded politely, maybe asked some clarifying questions about what went wrong. Me? I leaned back in that office chair and said, “Cool, I won’t.”

But then I asked the one question that changed everything: “If I fail, what happens to me?”

Their answer? “We’d just move you around to something else.”

And that, right there, was the safety net that made me dangerous.

Why That Safety Net Changed Everything

See, when you know failure isn’t going to destroy your career, you can afford to be bold instead of conservative. You can take calculated risks instead of playing it safe. You can focus on building something right instead of building something safe .

That conversation wasn’t just about whether websites could work; it was about whether I had the space to fail fast, learn quickly, and iterate without fear.

Once I knew I did, the whole game changed.

First, I actually understood the problem. After spending eight months in onboarding and support, I’d seen exactly where our customers were struggling. Property management companies don’t just need websites, they need systems . They need digital experiences that convert prospects, retain residents, and make their teams look like the pros they are.

Second, I had a secret weapon: I’d been living in our customers’ world. I wasn’t some outside consultant trying to figure out the industry. I was the guy who’d been troubleshooting their pain points, walking them through workflows, and listening to their frustrations every single day.

Third, and this is the big one, I learned from their previous mistakes. Too much customization? I’d build a system with smart constraints. Not systematized well? I’d create repeatable processes that could scale without breaking.

Building Something From Nothing (While Everyone Watched)

Those first few months were… interesting. Imagine trying to build a plane while flying it, except the plane is actually a rocket ship and half the crew isn’t sure rockets are even real.

I had to:

Create processes that didn’t exist
Build trust with a sales team that had never sold websites
Design workflows for an industry that treats “custom” like a four-letter word
Figure out the right balance between flexibility and systematization
Oh, and actually deliver results that justified the investment

But here’s what I knew that maybe the previous team didn’t: success wasn’t going to come from building the perfect system . It was going to come from building the right constraints, the right processes, and the right relationships with customers who understood the value.

November 2022: we published our first website.

I still remember hitting “publish” on that first site. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. More importantly, it converted .

The Plot Twist Nobody Saw Coming

Fast forward to August 2025, and that “doomed to fail” website division? We’ve published over 1,000 websites .

Let me say that again: over 1,000 websites, with a team of exactly one full-time person (me) and one other person who works maybe two hours a week when they’re not pulled into other projects.

You want to know what systematic process design looks like? That’s it right there.

The numbers tell the story, but honestly, the customer stories are even better. Companies that used to apologize for their websites now brag about them. Property managers who felt like they were stuck in 2008 are suddenly competing with the big players in their markets.

What This Really Taught Me About Intrapreneurship

Here’s the thing about building something new inside an existing company: everyone’s watching, but not everyone’s rooting for you . Some people want you to succeed because it validates their decision to support you. Others are secretly hoping you’ll fail because it proves their original skepticism was justified.

The key is to focus on the work, not the politics. Build something that works , deliver results that matter , and let the 1,000+ websites speak for themselves.

The Next Chapter (Because There’s Always One)

That confidence I had in that office conversation in May 2022? It wasn’t just about building a website division. It was about proving to myself, and maybe to everyone else, that I could take an idea, turn it into a system, scale it to over 1,000 published sites with basically no team, and do it all without falling into the same traps that killed the previous attempt.

Mission accomplished on that front.

But now I’m thinking bigger. The same strategic thinking, systematic process design, and smart constraint-setting that turned DoorLoop’s website division into a 1,000+ site success story? That’s the foundation for everything I’m building next.

Because here’s what I learned: when someone tells you something won’t work, they’re usually talking about the last time they tried it. They’re not talking about what happens when you try it with better strategy, systematic thinking, the safety net to fail fast, and the kind of stubborn optimism that refuses to accept failure as inevitable.

Sometimes the best response to “it won’t work” isn’t to argue or explain. Sometimes it’s just to smile and say, “Cool, I won’t fail.”

And then go prove it. 1,000+ times if necessary.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

How I Automate Duda Website Copy with Plumb AI and ChatGPT

Thu, 07 Aug 2025 03:31:33 GMT

It was a Tuesday night, around 8:43 PM. Miami heat still radiating through my living room window, Yael and Diana are finally down for the count, and that baby monitor’s glowing grayish/green like some sort of parental victory beacon. I’d been tinkering with Plumb AI for the last half a year, completely fascinated by its flow canvas and wondering if I could create something genuinely useful for my DoorLoop customers.

You know that feeling when you discover a new tool and think “there’s got to be a way to make this solve real problems”? That was me, three hours deep into building automated workflows that could transform how property management companies get custom website copy. Because honestly, asking a property manager to write compelling web copy is like asking me to fix a broken HVAC unit, it’s not happening.

By midnight, I’d created a system that could take any business description and generate completely customized copy for every section of a website template, all while maintaining brand voice and avoiding the generic fluff that makes every property management site sound like it was written by the same tired intern in 2019.

That’s when it hit me: we’re not just using AI tools anymore. We’re architecting processes that work while we sleep.

Why Duda Gets My Vote (And TechRadar’s Too)

Look, I’ve built sites on everything from WordPress to Webflow, but Duda just hits different when you’re trying to scale an agency operation. TechRadar recently called them the top pick for agencies in 2025 , and after what I pulled off Sunday night, I totally get why.

Here’s what sold me on Duda: that moment when a client sees their nearly-finished site and says “actually, can we try something completely different?” Instead of wanting to throw my laptop out the window, I can literally swap their entire design system in seconds. The templates are fully editable down to the CSS level, but there’s this reset feature that’s basically a panic button for scope creep.

Wix is cute for mom-and-pop shops, but Duda lets me put my logo where Wix hides the upsell button . And that matters when you’re building professional sites for businesses that actually need to convert visitors into leads.

But here’s the real magic : their AI Assistant is baked right into the editor . We’re talking contextual content generation in 50+ languages, bulk SEO optimization that’s 9X faster than manual work , and AI Sections that generate entire page sections from simple text prompts.

Instead of just building faster, I can now offer those surprise-and-delight moments, custom copy that would normally require a separate copywriting budget, all included in the website package. Essential when you’ve got two toddlers who think “daddy’s work time” means “let’s see how loud we can be while he’s on a client call.”

Plus, Duda just won “Best Overall Website Building Platform” in 2024’s MarTech Breakthrough Awards . Sometimes it’s nice when industry experts validate your tool choices, you know?

The Property Management Prompt That Changes Everything

Here’s the actual prompt that’s revolutionizing how I handle DoorLoop customer websites (and probably saving my sanity):

This isn’t just another copywriting prompt; it’s surgical precision for property management websites. The magic happens in those STYLE_RULES: maintaining the original structure while ensuring less than 30% lexical overlap with stock text. That means every DoorLoop customer gets copy that feels completely custom, even though we’re working from templates.

I’ve built separate Plumb flows for each Duda template in my arsenal. Customer fills out their business description, the flow processes it through template-specific nodes (one for homepage hero, one for services, one for about us, etc.), and outputs everything to a clean doc that I can copy-paste directly into their site. No more staring at blank text boxes wondering how to make “We manage properties” sound unique for the 847th time.

The token optimization is real too ; organizations are achieving up to 79% cost reductions through strategic prompt engineering, and this structured approach eliminates the trial-and-error that burns through API credits like a Formula 1 car burns through tires.

Enter Plumb AI: Template Customization at Scale

This is where things get interesting for my DoorLoop customers. Plumb AI just raised $11 million so folks like us can skip the grunt work, and their flow canvas is perfect for turning generic templates into custom experiences.

Here’s my actual workflow: Customer gets their Duda site built with stock text → they want it customized → I grab their business description → feed it into the template-specific Plumb flow → get clean copy output → paste directly into their website. Simple, elegant, and it works every single time.

Picture this flow: Business Description Input ➜ Homepage Hero Node ➜ Services Section Node ➜ About Us Node ➜ Contact CTA Node ➜ Format Output ➜ Generate Doc

Each template in my library has its own dedicated flow. A luxury property management company gets completely different treatment than a student housing operation, even though they’re using the same base template. The system knows that luxury clients care about “white-glove service” and “premium amenities, “ while student housing needs to emphasize “affordable” and “convenient to campus.”

Plumb AI’s multi-model approach means I can use GPT-4 for complex strategic thinking about positioning, then switch to Claude for faster execution on simpler sections, all in the same workflow. The human-in-the-loop feature lets me review and approve before anything goes live, so quality stays high while efficiency skyrockets.

Why This Matters for Property Managers (And My Sanity)

Let’s be honest here. Most property management company owners aren’t copywriters. They know how to fill vacancies, handle maintenance requests, and deal with difficult tenants, but asking them to write compelling web copy? That’s like asking me to diagnose why their pool pump isn’t working. We both know how that’s going to end.

Before this automation setup, I had two pretty lousy choices: spend hours crafting custom copy (expensive for them, time-consuming for me) or give them generic template text that screams “I built this in 2019 and never updated it.” Neither option felt great, honestly.

Now? Their business description becomes the seed for everything. A family-owned company managing 200 units in Kendall gets completely different messaging than a corporate operation handling 2, 000 apartments downtown. The automation handles the heavy lifting while I focus on strategy and making sure the voice feels authentically theirs.

Organizations implementing comprehensive automation strategies are saving 18-20 hours per week , and I’m definitely seeing similar results. What used to be a 3-hour copywriting session is now a 20-minute review and approval process. I can keep my DoorLoop website packages competitively priced while maintaining the speed that property managers desperately need, especially when they’re trying to fill units in Miami’s competitive rental market.

The best part? Companies report 25-30% average productivity gains from automated processes , which means I can take on more DoorLoop customers without expanding my operation or burning myself out. More importantly, my Sunday nights are mine again.

Beyond Templates: Becoming a Process Architect

This isn’t just about faster copywriting, though. I’m thinking bigger now, process architecture instead of task automation.

The workflow I built Sunday night? It’s now a reusable template that I can trigger for any new customer. What used to be a conversation about “we can add custom copy for an additional fee” is now “your copy is already custom; let me show you.” I’m scaling my one-person operation without adding overhead, which means better margins and happier clients. Not a bad trade-off.

This is the future of agency work: humans handling strategy and relationships while AI handles execution and optimization. The possibilities for intelligent automation are endless. Imagine systems that could monitor performance and suggest optimizations, or workflows that adapt content based on seasonal trends. Companies using comprehensive automation strategies are saving 18-20 hours per week and hitting ROI within 12 months . The ones that don’t adapt? They’ll be competing on price while we’re competing on speed and innovation.

And let me tell you, competing on innovation is a lot more fun than competing on price.

Your Turn to Build Something

Want to see this stuff in action? Book a 15-Minute Flow Audit and I’ll review your current process, spot the bottlenecks, and show you exactly where automation could save you hours per week.

The best time to build these systems was six months ago . The second-best time? Right now, before your competitors figure out what we’re up to.

Because trust me, they will figure it out eventually. The question is: will you be leading the pack or playing catch-up?

One thing I’d add since writing this: the prompts are the easy part. Keeping the output sounding like the client instead of like ChatGPT is the hard part, and that’s the whole reason I ended up building CAFECITO .

Building something interesting with AI automation? Hit me up on LinkedIn or drop a comment below. Always curious to see how other folks are connecting these dots, especially if you’ve got Miami-area clients who need websites that actually convert.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Why AI Can't Replace Your Personal Brand: The Human Edge in Content Creation

Wed, 23 Jul 2025 19:28:14 GMT

The Hook That Wasn’t

Picture this: it’s 11 PM on a Tuesday (you know, prime dad-brain hours when your cognitive function runs on fumes and whatever’s left in your coffee cup), and I’m hunched over my laptop trying to get ChatGPT to write a client email that sounds like, well, me.

Fourth revision. Still not right.

I’m literally coaching an artificial intelligence to capture my voice while my actual voice sits right here, perfectly capable of just… talking. It’s like hiring a translator when you already speak the language fluently.

That’s when it hit me harder than a Bill Laimbeer elbow in the paint: I’d spent more time teaching a robot to be AJ than it would’ve taken to just be AJ. And you know what the AI version was missing? The part where I’d naturally compare their website’s load time to Butler’s free throws during playoffs; technically functional, but nobody’s exactly thrilled about the experience.

We’re all so busy trying to optimize our output that we’re forgetting the most important ingredient in the recipe. The weird, imperfect, wonderfully human stuff that makes people actually want to work with us.

Everyone’s an AI Expert Now (Apparently)

Walk into any coworking space in Miami (or probably wherever you’re reading this), and you’ll hear the same conversation bouncing around like a tennis ball at Wimbledon. “How do I use AI to scale my content?” “Should I let ChatGPT write my newsletters?” “Can I automate my social media and still seem authentic?”

At DoorLoop , I watch property management companies wrestle with this daily. They want efficiency, and honestly, who doesn’t? But they’re also terrified of sounding like every other automated customer service bot that makes you want to launch your phone straight into Biscayne Bay.

Here’s the thing, though. AI can do a lot. It can write your first draft, research your talking points, even help you organize those scattered 3 AM thoughts into something resembling coherence. But here’s what it can’t do: be the person your audience actually signed up to hear from.

Think about it. When someone follows you on LinkedIn or subscribes to your newsletter, are they really hoping for perfectly optimized, algorithmically-generated content? Or are they hoping for you ?

Why Perfect Is Actually the Enemy of You

Quick question: when’s the last time you connected with someone’s content, really connected? Was it because their grammar was flawless? Because every paragraph transitioned seamlessly into the next like a well-choreographed dance routine?

I’m betting not.

It was probably because they shared something slightly messy. Maybe they admitted to feeding their kids cereal for dinner (been there, Yael had chocolate cheerios for dinner on Sunday), or they got unreasonably passionate about something most people wouldn’t think twice about, or they told a story that ran 20% too long but felt 100% them.

The AI version of you doesn’t have toddler interruptions. It doesn’t get fired up about Israeli innovation or frustrated when the Heat blow yet another fourth-quarter lead. It doesn’t have that specific cocktail of strategic thinking and dad-joke energy that makes people think, “Yeah, this person gets it.”

When we over-optimize for AI efficiency, we’re essentially asking our audience to fall in love with a really polished stranger instead of our beautifully chaotic selves. And honestly? That feels like a pretty raw deal for everyone involved.

The Frameworks That Actually Work (Without Losing Your Soul)

So how do you stay human while still being smart about AI? Here’s how I’m using it to help build brands, both mine and my clients’ over at Zossoz :

The 70/30 Rule : Let AI handle 70% of the research, organization, and first-draft heavy lifting. Think of it as your really efficient research assistant who never needs coffee breaks. But that final 30%, the voice, the personality, the weird tangents that somehow make perfect sense to you? That’s sacred human territory.

The Mirror Test : Before you hit publish on anything, ask yourself this: “Would my best client recognize this as coming from me if my name wasn’t on it?” If the answer’s no, you’ve probably outsourced too much of yourself.

The Imperfection Permission Slip : Give yourself permission to be a little disorganized, a little too passionate, a little more you than your “professional” voice says you should be. The people who matter will stick around for the ride. The ones who don’t? Well, they weren’t your people anyway.

And here’s the kicker that took me embarrassingly long to figure out: your competitors can copy your AI prompts, but they can’t copy your perspective. They can’t replicate the way you see patterns because you’re a parent who reads bedtime stories and builds websites and roots for teams that consistently break your heart every season.

That perspective? That’s your competitive advantage wrapped up in a bow.

Building With Your Hands (And Heart) Still Dirty

Look, I’m not going full Luddite here. I use AI constantly; for research, for breaking through writer’s block, for organizing my scattered thoughts into something that resembles actual coherence instead of stream-of-consciousness rambling.

But I’ve learned that the magic happens in the margins, in those spaces where AI simply can’t follow. It’s in the random connections I make between client calls and parenting moments. It’s in the way I can’t help but weave Jewish values into business discussions. It’s in admitting that sometimes I genuinely have no clue what I’m doing, but I’m figuring it out right alongside everyone else.

That’s not inefficiency. That’s brand.

Your audience doesn’t need another perfectly optimized content machine churning out generic wisdom. They need someone who shows up consistently, thinks differently, and isn’t afraid to be a little too much of themselves sometimes.

So by all means, let AI do the heavy lifting. Let it handle the stuff that would otherwise eat up your Tuesday evenings. But when it comes to the parts that actually matter, the voice, the vulnerability, the very specific way you see the world through your particular lens? That’s all you.

Because here’s what I’ve realized after years of building brands and raising kids and trying to make sense of this beautifully messy world: people don’t follow brands. They follow humans who happen to have brands.

And you? You’re irreplaceable.

That 70/30 rule eventually grew into a whole framework. I called it CAFECITO , because of course I did. It’s basically this post with homework: pin down your voice once, turn it into something your AI tools can actually read, and stop relitigating your own tone every Tuesday.

Want to talk about finding your voice in an AI-saturated world? Hit me up on LinkedIn or drop me a line. I promise you’ll get the real AJ, complete with Miami sports references and the occasional dad joke.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

I Asked AI to Build a Website. Here's What It Got Right (and Hilariously Wrong)

Sun, 13 Jul 2025 17:26:41 GMT

You know that feeling when your toddler confidently tells you they can make breakfast, and you find them 20 minutes later with syrup on the ceiling? Yeah, that’s basically my relationship with AI website builders.

Look, I’ve been in the web design game long enough to remember when “responsive design” was still this wild, revolutionary concept. (Shoutout to my fellow millennials who survived the Flash era and lived to tell about it.) And lately, it feels like every other day there’s some new AI tool sliding into my LinkedIn DMs promising to “revolutionize web design” or, my personal favorite, “eliminate the need for designers entirely.”

So naturally, being both a curious tech guy and someone who enjoys a good experiment, I routinely love to put these bold claims to the test.

Spoiler alert: the results were… let’s call them “educational.”

The Great AI Website Experiment

Over the years, I’ve tested pretty much every AI website builder that’s crossed my feed. And honestly? I always go in wanting to be impressed. As someone who manages customer websites at DoorLoop and runs branding projects through Zossoz , I’m always hunting for tools that can speed up our process without sacrificing quality.

But here’s the thing, and I say this with all the love in the world for our robot overlords: most of these AI tools create more work than they save.

It’s like asking someone to cook you dinner, and they hand you a half-assembled sandwich with the ingredients still in the packaging. Technically, yes, they “made” you food. But you’re still gonna spend more time fixing it than if you’d just made the sandwich yourself.

Which got me thinking, are we solving the right problem here?

What AI Gets Right (Credit Where It’s Due)

Don’t get me wrong, AI isn’t completely useless at web design. It’s actually pretty decent at a few things:

Speed : These tools can pump out a basic site structure faster than I can finish my morning coffee. And that’s saying something, because I take my caffeine seriously.

Content generation : Need placeholder copy that’s slightly better than Lorem Ipsum? AI’s got you covered. It can write decent marketing copy that at least sounds like it was written by a human who’s had some coffee.

Design patterns : AI has clearly studied the playbook of modern web design. Clean layouts, proper spacing, mobile-friendly structures, it knows the fundamentals.

But that’s where the magic ends.

Where Things Get… Interesting

The problems start when you realize that AI treats web design like it’s following a recipe, but it’s never actually tasted the food.

The personality problem : Every AI-generated site I’ve seen has this weird, sterile quality. It’s like meeting someone who’s technically saying all the right things but has never actually had a conversation. The sites look “professional” but feel like they were designed by someone who learned about human emotion from a Wikipedia article.

Brand understanding? What’s that? : I fed one tool a detailed brief for a Miami-based property management company. You know what the AI gave me? A site that could’ve been for literally any business, anywhere. No local flavor, no understanding of the target audience, no connection to what makes that specific company unique.

It was like asking for a Cuban sandwich and getting Wonder Bread with lunch meat.

The template trap : Here’s the real kicker, most AI tools create sites that end up needing so much manual tweaking that you might as well have started with a quality template in the first place. And guess what? A well-designed Duda template already gives you better bones to work with.

Why Duda Still Wins (And I’m Not Just Saying That)

Look, I could talk about Duda all day (occupational hazard), but here’s why I keep coming back to it: it strikes the perfect balance between automation and human creativity.

Duda’s templates aren’t just pretty, they’re smart. They’re built with real user behavior in mind, optimized for conversions, and designed to be customized without breaking. When I start with a Duda template, I’m building on a foundation that actually works.

Plus, and this is huge for someone managing multiple client projects, Duda’s interface doesn’t fight you when you want to make it uniquely yours. AI tools? They’re like that friend who insists on “helping” you cook dinner but won’t let you change the recipe.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

But here’s where things get interesting (and why I’m actually excited about the future). Duda’s beta testing something called File to Site , and it’s the first AI implementation that actually makes sense to me.

Instead of trying to replace human creativity, it enhances it. You feed it a project brief, and it creates a starting point that actually understands context. But, and this is crucial, it keeps you in the driver’s seat. It’s AI plus human insight, not AI instead of human insight.

This is a great example of the “ human in the loop ” approach, and it’s exactly what the industry needs. AI handling the heavy lifting, humans handling the soul.

Think about it this way: you wouldn’t want a robot to plan your wedding, but you might want one to handle the seating chart calculations. Same principle applies here.

What This Means for the Future

So where does this leave us? Are AI tools the future of web design, or just really expensive ways to feel disappointed ?

Honestly, I think we’re asking the wrong question. Instead of “Will AI replace web designers?” maybe we should be asking “How can AI make good designers even better?”

Because here’s what I’ve learned from this whole experiment: AI website builders aren’t terrible, they’re just not ready to replace actual strategy and creativity. They’re like really enthusiastic interns, great at following instructions, not so great at understanding what you actually need.

The tools that’ll win in the long run aren’t the ones trying to eliminate humans from the process. They’re the ones that make us more effective at what we’re already good at: understanding people, solving problems, and creating connections.

The Bottom Line

For now, I’m sticking with tools that enhance human creativity rather than trying to replace it. Because websites aren’t just about looking good, they’re about connecting with real people and solving real problems.

And last I checked, AI still hasn’t figured out how to have a conversation with your target customer over coffee.

But hey, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Some jobs are worth keeping human.

If you’d rather not do that wrestling yourself, that’s most of what I do at Zossoz : brand, copy, and a site that sounds like a person instead of a template. And if the part you’re stuck on is specifically the sounding-like-a-person bit, I turned that into a framework called CAFECITO . You bottle your voice once, then hand it to the AI so it stops flattening you into everyone else.

What’s your experience with AI design tools? Have you found any that actually save you time, or are you team “start with a solid template”? I’m always curious to hear how other builders are navigating this whole AI revolution. Hit me up on LinkedIn or drop me a line, I’d love to continue this conversation.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

How Treating Employees Like VIPs Transforms Company Culture (And Your Bottom Line)

Sat, 05 Jul 2025 15:15:51 GMT

How Treating Employees Like VIPs Transforms Company Culture

Some companies just nail the human experience. This week, Mazi and I had lunch at the the new Eataly in Aventura Mall. The service was exceptional, the staff never let our glasses get below halfway before appearing to refill them. The food was perfect, but honestly, the service made the night.

My dad’s had Miami Heat season tickets since day one, and over the years his various reps haven’t just been salespeople, they’ve become genuine friends. They check in on him when he’s been out for a few games, he tells them about his grandchildren, they share stories about their own kids. It’s real relationship building.

That’s not an accident, that’s intentional human psychology at work. Most companies are doing the exact opposite with their employees.

While places like Eataly and organizations like the Heat are treating people like valued relationships, most workplaces are stuck in the generic corporate mindset. You know what I mean, here’s your desk, here’s your login, here’s the employee handbook, good luck figuring out who actually cares about your success. Except instead of customers, we’re talking about the people who literally make or break your business every single day.

Here’s the thing that’s got me fired up: the smart companies are finally catching on. They’re stealing these relationship-building playbooks and transforming their workplace cultures in ways that would make my dad’s Heat rep proud.

And the results? Oh man, the results are bananas.

The engagement crisis that’s keeping CEOs up at night

Let’s start with the wake-up call that should have every executive reaching for their emergency coffee (or something stronger). Global employee engagement crashed to just 21% in 2024 , down from 23% in 2023.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, “AJ, that’s only a 2% drop. How bad could it be?”

Well, buckle up, because this is only the second decline in engagement we’ve seen in the past 12 years. Translation: your workforce is checking out faster than guests fleeing a one-star Yelp hotel.

But wait, it gets worse. Manager engagement plummeted from 30% to 27% in 2024 , the largest decline among all employee groups. And here’s the kicker that should really keep you up at night: 70% of team engagement is directly attributable to the manager .

Think about that for a second. When your managers are disengaged, they’re not just phoning it in themselves, they’re taking entire teams down with them like a poorly managed group vacation where the tour guide clearly doesn’t want to be there.

Plot twist though: fully remote workers are actually the most engaged at 31%, absolutely crushing on-site workers at 20%. So much for the “we need butts in seats” argument, right?

The financial damage? Try $438 billion in lost productivity globally due to disengagement. That’s not a typo, we’re literally hemorrhaging money because we’re treating our most valuable assets like room service orders instead of VIP guests.

What luxury hotels figured out that your company hasn’t

I’ve always been fascinated by how the luxury hospitality industry operates. These folks have spent decades, literally decades, perfecting the art of making people feel extraordinary. And it’s not just about thread counts and fancy lobbies (though those help). It’s about a systematic, almost scientific approach to human psychology.

Take the Ritz-Carlton’s famous $2,000 rule . Every employee, and I mean every single one, can spend up to $2,000 per guest, per incident, without manager approval.

Let that sink in for a moment. They trust their people to make decisions and solve problems instantly. Compare that to your average corporate environment where employees need three approvals to order paper clips. (Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but you get the point.)

The Four Seasons built their empire on something so simple it sounds almost silly: the Golden Rule. “Treat others as you want to be treated.” Revolutionary? Not really. Effective? Absolutely. Their employees receive 250+ hours of training annually, that’s more than many companies invest in their entire leadership development programs.

What really gets me excited is their “Culture of Yes” approach. Instead of explaining why things can’t be done (looking at you, IT department), hospitality professionals are trained to find ways to make things possible. Imagine if your entire organization operated like a concierge service instead of a fortress guarding the supplies closet.

The companies absolutely crushing it right now

Let me tell you about some companies that are making the rest of us look bad in the best possible way.

Southwest Airlines has been treating employees like VIPs for decades, and their track record is bonkers good. Eight consecutive years on Fortune’s Best Places to Work list isn’t luck, that’s strategy. Their “Culture of Caring” approach gives leaders actual budgets to spend on employee care. We’re talking flowers for bereavements, baby gifts for new parents, surprise celebrations for work anniversaries.

Here’s what blew my mind: Southwest has consistently ranked #1 in customer service metrics 26 times in 34 years. When you treat employees like VIPs, they treat customers like royalty. It’s this beautiful virtuous cycle that basically prints money.

Hilton made history as the first hospitality company to achieve #1 World’s Best Workplace. Their “Heart of House Program” completely redesigns those dreary back-of-house employee areas with vibrant colors, Wi-Fi, and environments that actually inspire people. They didn’t just improve working conditions, they created experiences.

The results? 96% of their employees say it’s a great place to work versus 57% at typical companies. That’s not an improvement, that’s a complete transformation.

Even healthcare is getting in on this action. Bronson Healthcare implemented employee concierge services and saw a 54% reduction in overall employee turnover and 49% reduction in nursing turnover. In an industry that’s been hemorrhaging staff, those numbers are absolutely game-changing.

The ROI that’ll make your CFO do a happy dance

Okay, let’s talk about everyone’s favorite topic: money. Because at the end of the day, if treating employees like VIPs doesn’t move the financial needle, it’s just expensive feel-good theater.

Companies investing in employee experience management tools see ROI upwards of 300% . Three hundred percent. That’s not a nice-to-have investment, that’s a “how fast can we implement this” investment.

The productivity impact alone should get your attention: engaged employees are 17% more productive , and companies with high employee engagement see 20% increases in sales. When you treat people like VIPs, they perform like superstars. Shocking, I know.

Here’s my favorite stat: Fortune 100 Best Companies to Work For earn 8.5x more revenue per employee than the average public company. Eight and a half times. That’s not a rounding error, that’s a fundamental business advantage that compounds year over year.

The turnover savings alone justify the investment. Companies with strong employee experience programs see 40% reductions in turnover. With average replacement costs ranging from 50-200% of annual salary, the math is pretty simple: retention equals revenue.

Your VIP treatment playbook (because I know you were asking)

So how do you actually do this? How do you transform from budget motel management to Four Seasons leadership without breaking the bank?

Start with employee journey mapping. Just like hotels map guest experiences from booking to checkout, you need to map employee experiences from that first recruiter call to (hopefully way in the future) alumni relations. Companies using journey mapping see 25.3% year-over-year improvement in employee engagement versus 10.8% without. That’s not a marginal improvement, that’s a competitive advantage.

Personalization is your secret weapon. Generic recognition programs fail because they assume everyone wants the same rewards. Some employees crave public recognition, others prefer private appreciation or flexible work arrangements. Mass customization, balancing standardization with individual touches , is where the magic happens.

Employee concierge services are having a moment, and for good reason. For $3-8 per employee per month, companies are offering everything from dry cleaning pickup to travel planning. 93% of employees report reduced stress levels and 92% report better work-life balance . That’s not just a perk, that’s a productivity multiplier.

VIP onboarding experiences set the tone for everything that follows. Instead of generic orientations (you know, the ones where someone reads PowerPoint slides about the company history while everyone checks their phones), create personalized welcome packages, assign dedicated onboarding specialists, and treat first days like luxury hotel check-ins.

The wisdom from people smarter than me

The insights from hospitality leaders and HR innovators reveal the psychological principles behind all of this VIP treatment stuff.

Richard Branson nails it : “Clients do not come first. Employees come first. If you take care of your employees, they will take care of the clients.” This isn’t feel-good fluff, it’s strategic thinking that’s built multiple billion-dollar companies.

Will Guidara , the guy behind some of the world’s most legendary restaurants, puts it perfectly: “Making good products is no longer enough. Serving them efficiently is no longer enough. It’s how we make people feel that matters most of all.”

Think about that in the context of your workplace. In a world where most products and services are commoditized, emotional connection becomes the differentiator. Your employee experience isn’t just about productivity, it’s about creating advocates who genuinely want to see your company succeed.

The landmines that’ll blow up your program

Let me save you some heartache by sharing the mistakes I see companies make over and over again.

The biggest one? Surface-level improvements without addressing the culture underneath. 92% of managers report their company’s leadership development initiatives need improvement , yet organizations keep deploying generic, one-size-fits-all programs. It’s like putting fresh paint on a house with a cracked foundation.

Since 70% of engagement is attributable to managers, fixing the manager problem isn’t optional, it’s the foundation everything else builds on.

Over-promising and under-delivering is program suicide. Companies make grand announcements about employee experience transformations, then fail to provide adequate resources or sustained commitment. When reality doesn’t match promises, engagement levels don’t just stay flat, they crater.

Cultural misalignment creates cynicism faster than you can say “employee appreciation day.” Programs that feel like checking boxes rather than genuine care get sniffed out immediately. Employees have finely tuned BS detectors, and they know when initiatives are performative versus authentic.

Here’s one that really gets me: the measurement trap . Companies collect massive amounts of feedback data but don’t take action on insights. Survey participation drops when employees see no follow-through. Feedback without action is worse than no feedback at all.

So, what now?

Look, here’s the thing, treating employees like VIPs isn’t just some nice-to-have initiative you roll out when times are good. With 300% ROI on employee experience investments, 40% reductions in turnover, and 21% increases in profitability, the business case is absolutely bulletproof.

The hospitality industry spent decades perfecting the art of making people feel extraordinary. Their systematic approaches to service, empowerment, personalization, and continuous improvement provide a proven blueprint that any company can adapt.

The companies winning the talent war have stopped thinking like traditional employers and started thinking like hospitality directors. They’ve realized that in a world where products and services are increasingly commoditized, the employee experience is the ultimate differentiator.

The choice is pretty simple: keep treating employees like budget motel guests and watch them check out (literally and figuratively), or roll out the red carpet with VIP treatment and watch your business transform.

The research shows exactly how to do it, what it costs, and what you’ll gain. The technology enablers are finally here. The case studies are compelling. The ROI is proven.

The question isn’t whether you can afford to treat employees like VIPs. The question is whether you can afford not to.

Time to start thinking like a concierge instead of a corporate overlord. Your employees, and your bottom line, will thank you for it.

What’s your take? Have you seen VIP employee treatment work (or fail spectacularly) at your company? I’d love to hear your war stories. Hit me up on LinkedIn or drop me a line, let’s figure out how to make work feel less like work and more like a five-star experience.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Teaching Yael and Diana the Value of Chutzpah

Fri, 27 Jun 2025 22:08:21 GMT

You know what keeps me up at night? (Well, besides Diana’s current obsession with 3 AM wake-up calls.) It’s wondering if I’m raising my girls to be bold enough for this world.

Yael’s just over four now, and Diana is almost two, and honestly, I’m already thinking about the kind of women I want them to become. Not just successful (though that’d be nice), but the kind of people who walk into a room and change the energy. The kind who stand up for what’s right, even when their voice shakes a little.

That’s where chutzpah comes in.

What Chutzpah Really Means (And Why It Matters)

Look, chutzpah gets a bad rap sometimes. People think it’s just being pushy or obnoxious, like that guy who cuts in line at Starbucks and acts like he owns the place. But real chutzpah? It’s so much more than that.

Chutzpah is having the audacity to dream big and the courage to make it happen. It’s the Jewish kid from Brooklyn who decides to start a tech company. It’s the single mom who goes back to school at 35. It’s my daughter Yael asking “But why?” for the fifteenth time in a row because she genuinely wants to understand the world around her.

It’s bold compassion in action.

And in a world that’s constantly trying to make our kids smaller, quieter, more compliant, less questioning, I think we need to raise them with a healthy dose of holy audacity.

The Balancing Act (Because Nothing’s Ever Simple)

Here’s the thing though: I don’t want to raise little terrors who think the world owes them something. There’s a fine line between confidence and entitlement, between standing up for yourself and bulldozing over others.

So how do you teach chutzpah without creating monsters?

Start with empathy. Before Yael learns to challenge authority, she needs to understand why that authority exists in the first place. Before she fights for what she wants, she needs to consider what others need too.

Just last week, she wanted to stay up past bedtime to finish watching Bluey (honestly, can’t blame her, that show hits different). Instead of just saying no, I asked her what she thought would happen if she stayed up late. We talked through it together: she’d be cranky tomorrow, Diana would wake up if we kept the TV on, and Mommy and Daddy needed some grown-up time too.

Then I gave her a choice. She could go to bed now and we’d watch two episodes tomorrow, or she could stay up for one more episode but no extra TV time the next day. She chose to watch the episode, but more importantly, she felt like she had agency in the decision (I’m still working on delayed gratification with her but she’s 4 what can you do).

Building Bold, Not Bratty

The secret sauce? Teaching them that chutzpah comes with responsibility.

When Yael asks for something, whether it’s a snack before dinner or to play at the park, I try to encourage her to make her case. Not whining or demanding, but actually explaining why she thinks it’s a good idea. Sometimes she surprises me with her logic. Other times… well, “because I want it” isn’t exactly compelling evidence.

But even when her argument falls flat, I celebrate the fact that she tried. Because that’s what I want her to do when she’s 25 and asking for a promotion, or 35 and pitching her own business idea, or any time she needs to advocate for herself.

I want her to know her voice matters.

Diana’s still too little for these conversations (her main form of communication right now involves pointing and making sounds that could either mean “more cheerios” or “the meaning of life”). But she’s already showing signs of that Oberlender/Kuba stubbornness, sorry, determination, that runs in our family.

The Miami Factor

Living in Miami adds another layer to this whole thing. This city rewards boldness, you can’t survive here without a little swagger. But it also teaches you that everyone’s got a story, everyone’s fighting their own battles.

When we’re at the park and Yael sees another kid playing alone, I encourage her to introduce herself. Not because she has to be friends with everyone, but because reaching out takes guts. And kindness? That’s the highest form of chutzpah there is.

It’s having the audacity to care.

What This Looks Like in Real Life

So what does raising kids with chutzpah actually mean day-to-day?

It means letting Yael help me order at restaurants (even when she asks the server fourteen questions about the chicken nuggets). It means encouraging her to tell me when she disagrees with something, and then actually listening to her reasoning.

It means teaching her that “please” and “thank you” aren’t just politeness, they’re power moves. They show respect while still standing your ground.

And honestly? It means modeling it myself. Kids don’t learn confidence from lectures, they learn it from watching you navigate the world with purpose and kindness.

When I’m working on a DoorLoop project and hit a roadblock, I let the girls see me problem-solve out loud. When we’re out shopping and I notice the cashier’s having one of those days, they watch me try to turn that person’s mood around, maybe asking how they’re doing, cracking a silly joke, or just showing genuine kindness to someone who’s probably dealt with difficult customers all shift. And when their safta serves me food I don’t love? They see me find a gracious way to handle it (I always love her for trying, though honestly, I have the taste buds of a child).

The Long Game

Look, I don’t know if I’m getting this right. Most days I feel like I’m winging it harder than a Dolphins fourth-quarter comeback attempt (and we all know how those usually go).

But I do know this: I want Yael and Diana to grow up believing they belong in any room they enter. I want them to ask questions that make people think. I want them to stand up for their friends, their values, and themselves, even when it’s uncomfortable.

I want them to have the chutzpah to change the world, one bold act of kindness at a time.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what real chutzpah is about. It’s not just having the nerve to go after what you want. It’s having the courage to make things better for everyone else too.

And if that’s not worth staying up late worrying about, I don’t know what is.

Building bold, compassionate kids isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. What are you teaching your kids about standing up for themselves and others? Drop me a line on LinkedIn or Instagram @ajoberlender . I’d love to hear your stories.

Why Sports Fans Are the Ultimate Brand Advocates (And How to Build Your Own Fan Army)

Tue, 17 Jun 2025 01:28:13 GMT

Why Sports Fans Are the Ultimate Brand Advocates

You know what I realized while defending the Miami Heat in our group chat last week? I’m out here writing paragraphs about why this team still has a shot, why Tyler Herro’s been playing better, and how we’re only a few games back from a playoff spot. My friends are sending crying-laughing emojis, but I’m genuinely passionate about this argument at 11 PM on a Tuesday.

That’s when it hit me: sports fans operate on a completely different level than your average customer. I’m talking about people who’ll drop $200 on a jersey for a player who might get traded next month, who’ll defend their team’s terrible draft picks like they’re family members, and who somehow find a way to make every conversation circle back to last week’s game. As someone who’s spent way too much time thinking about brand loyalty (occupational hazard), I started wondering: what if businesses could create that same level of devotion?

Turns out, the numbers are pretty wild.

The loyalty gap that should keep CMOs up at night

Here’s the thing that’ll make your quarterly retention reports look embarrassing: sports fans demonstrate 306% higher lifetime value than regular customers. Three hundred and six percent. That’s not a typo, and it’s not some small sample size either.

Self-proclaimed “fanatic” fans spend 6X more annually than casual fans. And get this, younger sports fans actually pay $70 more on average for tickets despite having 20% lower income than older fans. Most businesses would kill for customers who become less price-sensitive as they get more invested.

But here’s where it gets really interesting (and a little humbling for those of us in the business world). Only 40% of younger sports fans cite high prices as a negative experience , compared to 62% of older fans. They’re literally training themselves to care less about price. When’s the last time your customers did that?

The relationship longevity is what really gets me though. Sports fans maintain brand relationships for 5.1 years versus 3.4 years for regular customers , with 11% higher overall loyalty rates than non-sports fans.

And here’s the kicker: 67% of global football fans find sponsoring brands appealing compared to just 54% of the general population. They’re not just loyal to the team; they’re extending that loyalty to whoever the team says is cool.

What’s actually happening in a sports fan’s brain?

This isn’t just about loving a logo (though trust me, I’ve got plenty of Heat gear to prove that happens too). There’s some serious psychology at work here that most businesses completely miss.

Sports fans form emotional bonds similar to personal relationships , which sounds obvious until you realize what that actually means. When your team wins, you literally feel pride like you personally accomplished something. When they lose, it genuinely ruins your day, sometimes your week. I’ve seen grown adults in Miami wearing Tyler Herro jerseys walk taller after a good game. It’s not rational, but it’s real.

The research calls it “consumer fanaticism” , a unique form of loyalty that’s essentially self-sustaining. Regular brand loyalty requires constant reinforcement, offers, reminders. Sports fan loyalty? It feeds itself. Highly identified fans actually internalize team attitudes and behaviors as their own .

Think about that for a second. Your customers aren’t just buying your product; they’re adopting your values as part of their identity.

The community aspect provides social psychological health benefits and a sense of belonging that transcends typical brand relationships. This is what most loyalty programs get wrong, they focus on transactions when they should be building tribes.

The companies that cracked the code

Some brands have figured this out, and honestly, their results are a little intimidating.

Netflix basically turned binge-watching into a lifestyle. They’ve created a culture where fans defend their shows like personal relationships, create fan theories that become cultural phenomena, and actually get excited about algorithm recommendations. When Netflix cancels a beloved show, fans don’t just complain, they organize campaigns, create petitions, and sometimes even fund billboards. That’s sports-fan-level emotional investment in a streaming service.

Apple’s got the “Us vs. Them” thing down to a science. 55.2% loyalty rate with iPhone users showing 80.5% retention . People literally camp out for launches and will defend iOS against Android users like they’re protecting family honor. That’s sports fan behavior applied to smartphones .

Harley-Davidson built the world’s largest motorcycle club through their Harley Owners Group, achieving 79% brand loyalty even while facing a 17% decrease in shipments in 2024 . When your community loyalty survives poor business performance, you’ve created something special.

Patagonia’s playing the long game with 79% customer loyalty through authentic environmental activism . Fans actually bring non-Patagonia items to Worn Wear repair events , which is like Heat fans showing up to help Lakers fans fix their jerseys. That’s next-level community engagement.

How Miami teams are schooling everyone else

Living in Miami, I get to see some pretty innovative fan engagement up close, and honestly, other cities should be taking notes.

The Heat went full tech-forward with the NBA’s first all-digital ticketing system tied to fan identity . They’re not just selling tickets; they’re creating comprehensive data profiles that let them personalize everything. Their Microsoft Dynamics 365 integration creates 360-degree fan views with predictive analytics , and it’s working, 30% year-over-year increase in season ticket sales .

The Dolphins have been innovating with data-driven fan experiences throughout Hard Rock Stadium. What’s smart about their approach is how they’ve integrated loyalty rewards across multiple touchpoints , rewarding social media engagement and game-day activities, not just purchases . Multiple touchpoints mean multiple chances to deepen the relationship beyond just showing up to games.

Inter Miami FC is pioneering interactive livestreaming through their StreamLayer partnership, featuring 8-person group video calls during matches and live chat functionality . They’re basically turning games into social events for people watching from home. This addresses growing demand for community viewing experiences , especially among younger demographics who grew up on Discord and Twitch.

The digital transformation nobody talks about

Here’s what changed everything, and it happened so fast that most businesses missed it entirely. 86% of social media marketers now consider building active communities critical to their 2024 strategy , but they’re focusing on smaller, specialized groups rather than broad-reach engagement.

Discord emerged as the sleeper hit with 227.7 million monthly active users and 4 billion minutes of daily conversation . Success stories like Midjourney’s thriving AI art community show how brands can leverage passionate user bases for product testing and community building.

The shift is from “always-on” to “always-in” marketing. Instagram Broadcast Channels offer 70% higher engagement rates when creators respond , while TikTok’s “Brand Chem” concept emphasizes collaborative content creation with communities rather than traditional advertising approaches.

84% of consumers need to share values with brands to make purchases . It’s not enough to make a good product anymore; you need to stand for something that resonates.

When fan building goes hilariously wrong

Of course, not everyone gets this right, and some of the failures are pretty spectacular teaching moments.

Chick-fil-A basically fired their own fan base in 2024. Employees like “Miri” gained 80,000 followers creating positive brand content on TikTok , but instead of partnering with these organic advocates, the company shut them down over policy concerns . Imagine if the Heat told their biggest fans to stop posting about the team. Makes no sense.

Apple’s “Crush” campaign for the iPad Pro sparked massive backlash from their core creative community. #RespectArt trending as fans felt the brand dismissed traditional creative tools . When your own fan base is organizing against you, you’ve seriously misread the room.

Jaguar’s radical rebrand was like if the Lakers suddenly decided to become an expansion team. They abandoned existing fans in pursuit of new demographics , generating millions of critical social media comments from automotive enthusiasts who felt completely alienated.

Meta’s metaverse disaster is the ultimate cautionary tale about forced community building. Despite $58 billion invested in Reality Labs , Horizon Worlds peaked at only 200,000 monthly users . Most virtual worlds had under 40 daily active users. You can’t manufacture authentic community; it has to grow organically.

The playbook that actually works

So what separates the Netflixs from the Metas? After looking at all this data, I’ve noticed five patterns that consistently show up in successful fan communities:

Create emotional connections beyond transactions. Sports fans show 306% higher lifetime value when emotionally connected , and 70% of emotionally engaged consumers spend twice as much . Focus on shared values and purpose, not product features. People don’t buy products; they join movements.

Build community-first experiences where fans interact with each other, not just your brand. The most successful examples show fans creating content, defending brands, and recruiting new members organically . 84% of businesses now prioritize brand partnerships in their 2025 investment strategies because authentic collaboration works better than top-down messaging.

Use data like the Heat, not like a creepy stalker. The Heat’s 30% increase in season ticket sales directly resulted from 360-degree fan views and predictive analytics . 80% of customers are more likely to purchase with personalized experiences , but personalization should feel helpful, not invasive.

Respect platform culture instead of fighting it. Discord for sustained community interaction, Instagram Broadcast Channels for direct communication, and TikTok for entertainment-first content . Each platform has its own language and culture. Trying to force LinkedIn content onto TikTok is like wearing a suit to a pickup basketball game.

Avoid the obvious mistakes. Don’t shut down organic advocates like Chick-fil-A. Don’t abandon your core community like Jaguar. Don’t force artificial communities like Meta. And definitely don’t ignore platform-specific culture. 77% of consumers maintain brand loyalty for 10+ years when approached authentically .

Measuring what actually matters

Traditional metrics miss the point entirely. Track community engagement rates beyond purchase frequency , user-generated content volume, and advocacy behaviors rather than just satisfaction scores.

Net Promoter Score still matters, but sports-fan-like loyalty shows up in share of voice in brand conversations and customer lifetime value by engagement level . The most successful companies show 25-95% profit increases from just 5% improvements in customer retention , with loyalty-leading brands growing 2.5X faster than competitors .

The future belongs to the fanatics

Here’s what I keep coming back to: 53% of consumers regularly switch brands despite loyalty programs . Traditional approaches aren’t working anymore because they’re built around transactions, not relationships.

The companies that survive the next decade will be the ones that figure out how to create genuine emotional connections. Sports fans don’t just buy products; they become lifetime advocates who actively recruit new fans and defend the brand against criticism .

You know what’s funny? I started this thinking about how businesses could learn from sports fans, but the more I dig into it, the more I realize it’s really about getting back to something fundamental that we lost somewhere along the way. Building communities around shared values, creating experiences that matter, and treating customers like humans instead of data points .

The brands that crack this code don’t just get customers; they get evangelists. And in a world where everyone’s fighting for attention, having people who genuinely want to talk about your brand? That’s not just a competitive advantage, it’s practically a superpower.

Want to talk strategy about building your own fan community? I’m always up for a conversation about the intersection of branding, psychology, and why the Heat are definitely making the playoffs this year. Connect with me on LinkedIn or check out what we’re building at Zossoz .

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Bedtime Shema: A Simple Jewish Bedtime Routine for Kids

Thu, 12 Jun 2025 17:45:37 GMT

Why the Shema Became Our Family’s Bedtime Superpower

Here’s something I never expected when I became a dad: that a 3,000-year-old Hebrew prayer would become my secret weapon for bedtime chaos.

Every night, after baths are done, books are read, and teeth are brushed, we perform this ancient ritual that’s become more essential than Yael ’s obsession with Bluey . My 4-year-old covers her eyes with tiny fingers, while 1-year-old Diana tries to copy her from Mazi’s lap, and together we recite the Shema , Judaism’s most fundamental prayer. What started as “we should probably do this Jewish thing” has become our most powerful tool for ending each day with actual connection instead of the usual bedtime negotiations that sound like hostage situations.

Look, I’m not here to convince you to convert to Judaism (though Mazi makes a mean challah). But here’s what I’ve discovered after three and a half years of this practice, starting when Yael was just 6 months old: this ancient prayer might just be the most underrated parenting hack in existence. And modern science? It’s basically proving what Jewish mothers have known forever.

When ancient wisdom meets modern chaos

Let me paint you a picture. It’s 7:30 PM on a Tuesday, and I’m stuck in Miami traffic, watching the clock tick closer to bedtime. While other parents might be dreading the evening chaos, I’m genuinely excited to make it home in time for the one part of our routine that I actually look forward to. There’s something about knowing that no matter how crazy the day has been, we’ll end it together with this quiet, meaningful moment.

This is when the bedtime Shema works its magic.

The practice isn’t some modern wellness trend, by the way. We’re talking biblical commandment territory here. The Torah literally instructs us to speak these words “when you lie down and when you rise up.” But the bedtime version, Kriat Shema al HaMitah (try saying that three times fast), carries special significance that goes way beyond just checking a religious box.

Here’s where it gets interesting: the Talmud teaches that when we sleep, our souls basically take a field trip to heaven for a daily performance review, leaving our bodies temporarily vulnerable. The bedtime Shema serves as protection during this spiritual Uber ride. Rabbi Yitzchak noted that “demons are kept away” from those who recite it before sleep.

Now, I’m not particularly worried about demons in Miami (though I-95 during rush hour comes close), but the underlying principle hits different: sleep is a time of vulnerability that benefits from intentional preparation. It’s like spiritual armor for the unconscious hours.

The core prayer itself, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is One,” represents Judaism’s fundamental declaration of monotheism. But beyond the theology, it’s about acceptance and commitment to living according to something bigger than yourself. When Yael covers her eyes and recites these words, she’s joining a chain of tradition that stretches back to Moses. No pressure, kid.

The words we say (Hebrew, transliteration, English)

Here’s the part a lot of families with little kids stick to: the first line, the quiet line right after it, and the first paragraph, called the V’ahavta. The Hebrew below is copied straight from the bedtime Shema in the Metsudah siddur on Sefaria , and the English for the Torah verses is the 1917 JPS translation of Deuteronomy 6:4-9 , also on Sefaria.

1. The first line (the one everybody knows)

שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ יְהֹוָה אֶחָד:

Sh’ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad.

Hear, O Israel: the LORD our God, the LORD is one.

2. Baruch Shem (said quietly)

בָּרוּךְ שֵׁם כְּבוֹד מַלְכוּתוֹ לְעוֹלָם וָעֶד:

Baruch shem k’vod malchuto l’olam va’ed.

Blessed [is His] Name, Whose glorious Kingdom is forever and ever.

This one’s traditionally said in a whisper; the siddur prints the instruction right above it. (Why the whisper? Great question, and exactly the kind of rabbit hole I built Derekh Learning for.)

3. The V’ahavta

וְאָהַבְתָּ אֵת יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ בְּכָל־לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל־נַפְשְׁךָ וּבְכָל־מְאֹדֶֽךָ: וְהָיוּ הַדְּבָרִים הָאֵֽלֶּה אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי מְצַוְּךָ הַיּוֹם עַל־לְבָבֶֽךָ: וְשִׁנַּנְתָּם לְבָנֶֽיךָ וְדִבַּרְתָּ בָּם בְּשִׁבְתְּךָ בְּבֵיתֶֽךָ וּבְלֶכְתְּךָ בַדֶּֽרֶךְ וּבְשָׁכְבְּךָ וּבְקוּמֶֽךָ: וּקְשַׁרְתָּם לְאוֹת עַל־יָדֶֽךָ וְהָיוּ לְטֹטָפֹת בֵּין עֵינֶֽיךָ: וּכְתַבְתָּם עַל־מְזֻזוֹת בֵּיתֶֽךָ וּבִשְׁעָרֶֽיךָ:

V’ahavta et Adonai Elohecha, b’chol l’vav’cha, uv’chol nafsh’cha, uv’chol m’odecha. V’hayu ha’d’varim ha’eileh, asher anochi m’tzav’cha hayom, al l’vavecha. V’shinantam l’vanecha, v’dibarta bam, b’shivt’cha b’veitecha, uv’lecht’cha vaderech, uv’shochb’cha uv’kumecha. Uk’shartam l’ot al yadecha, v’hayu l’totafot bein einecha. Uch’tavtam al m’zuzot beitecha uvisharecha.

And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be upon thy heart; and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thy hand, and they shall be for frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the door-posts of thy house, and upon thy gates.

Notice the middle there? Teach them to your kids, and say them “when thou liest down.” So the bedtime version is kind of the whole assignment.

What we’re leaving out: The full Kriat Shema al HaMitah in a traditional siddur is a lot longer. It opens with a prayer forgiving anyone who wronged you that day, includes the Hamapil blessing (thanking God for the “fetters of sleep” on your eyes), all three paragraphs of the Shema, and a handful of psalms, including Psalm 91. You can read the whole thing on Sefaria . With two little girls, we’re not there yet. (Some nights we’re barely at “stay in bed.”)

How to do the bedtime Shema with kids

If you want the short version before the long story, here it is.

What age to start: There’s no minimum. We started when Yael was 6 months old, with just the first line in a soft voice, and by 3 she was covering her own eyes and saying the Hebrew herself. With a baby, you’re the one saying it and they’re soaking it in. With a toddler, the first line plus covering eyes is plenty. Once your kid is learning Hebrew at school, you can add Baruch Shem and then the V’ahavta, one piece at a time.

How long it takes: The first line is about ten seconds. Add Baruch Shem and the V’ahavta and you’re still at a minute or two. (Way shorter than a Bluey episode, which in our house is the official unit of time.)

A simple routine:

Same slot, every night. For us it’s after bath, books, and teeth. It’s the very last thing before lights out.
Get close. Diana on a lap, Yael snuggled in. The closeness matters more than the pronunciation.
Cover your eyes and say the first line together. Go slow and stretch out “Echad.” The Talmud even says whoever draws out “Echad” is rewarded with a longer life , which is a great argument for not rushing when you’re tired.
Add the quiet line, and the V’ahavta when they’re ready. No pressure. Some nights it’s just line one.
Close with something that’s yours. Ours is “Amen, laila tov,” then the whole “I love you, I love you more, I love you most, I love you to infinity and beyond” routine.

Why cover your eyes? That goes back to the Talmud too, which describes Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi passing his hands over his face as he said the first line. And in that story, his whole Shema was that single verse. So if your kid only makes it through line one, they’re in very good company.

What the research nerds discovered

Okay, this is where I get to be the dad who quotes studies at dinner parties (sorry, friends).

The ancient rabbis intuited something that contemporary research has now confirmed with actual data: consistent bedtime routines provide remarkable developmental benefits for children. We’re talking better executive function, improved working memory, enhanced attention control. Basically, bedtime routines are like CrossFit for developing brains.

But here’s what really got my attention: the psychological benefits extend way beyond just better sleep. Children with consistent bedtime rituals develop better emotional regulation, reduced anxiety, and enhanced feelings of security. It’s like they’re building an internal Swiss Army knife for handling life’s curveballs.

And when you add spiritual practices into the mix? Harvard research found that young adults who prayed daily showed more positive affect and better emotional regulation. Dr. Lisa Miller’s work on developmental spirituality suggests that children come “hardwired to relate with the divine,” which means we’re not imposing weird concepts, we’re nurturing something that’s already there.

For our family, these benefits show up in ways that make the whole bedtime routine smoother. Yael, who’s been doing bedtime Shema since she was 6 months old, genuinely finds comfort in the ritual and often reminds us when we’re running behind schedule (which, let’s be honest, is most nights). Both girls seem to settle more easily after we’ve finished our prayer sequence.

How modern families hack ancient prayers

Here’s the thing I love about Jewish families today: we’re not museum curators preserving traditions under glass. We’re creative adapters, finding ways to make 3,000-year-old prayers work with toddlers who think “patience” is something that happens to other people.

Some families use simplified versions, focusing on just the first line instead of the full traditional liturgy (which, honestly, is longer than most Netflix episodes). Others integrate gratitude practices, asking kids to share something they’re thankful for each night. Many incorporate technology thoughtfully, using apps with interactive elements or recorded melodies.

The key insight? Meaning matters more than ritual perfection. Families increasingly focus on the spiritual and emotional benefits rather than perfect execution of traditional liturgy. One mom I know shared how her toddler learned to place her parent’s hand over her eyes during the Shema, showing how even tiny humans can engage with the physical elements.

Creative adaptations include singing the Shema to familiar melodies, using picture books with Hebrew transliterations, and creating “prayer tents” with blankets for that cozy, secret clubhouse feeling.

When spirituality meets real parenting

Here’s what I didn’t expect: the most profound discovery in our bedtime Shema practice is how spiritual rituals can serve as reset buttons for the whole family. After busy days of work calls, preschool pickup, and the general chaos of keeping tiny humans alive, this ritual creates a sacred pause that benefits everyone, not just the kids.

Research on “shared spirituality” between parents and children shows it provides over 80% protection against depression transmission. When families engage in spiritual practices together, they create stronger bonds than individual practices alone. The bedtime Shema offers exactly this kind of shared spiritual experience, but without requiring anyone to sit still for longer than a toddler’s attention span.

For me as a father, the nightly ritual has become a moment of reflection that I actually look forward to. Racing home through Miami traffic, I’m genuinely excited to make it in time for those final moments of the day. Covering my eyes alongside my daughters, I’m reminded of what truly matters beyond quarterly revenue targets and whether we remembered to buy milk. The ancient words provide perspective on daily stresses and reconnect me to values that transcend the immediate concerns of parenting and work.

The practice also models vulnerability and faith for children. When parents engage sincerely in prayer, kids learn that it’s safe to express spiritual needs and that turning to something greater than ourselves is a normal part of life. This foundation becomes invaluable as children face their own challenges and uncertainties.

Modern life offers precious few opportunities for families to actually slow down and connect deeply. The bedtime Shema creates a protected space where external distractions fade away. No phones, no screens, no rushing, just intimate time focused on comfort, connection, and meaning. It’s like a daily family retreat that lasts three minutes.

The toddler-proofing manual

The practical challenge of incorporating ancient Hebrew prayers into the bedtime routine of a 4-year-old and 1-year-old has taught me that consistency and adaptability aren’t opposites, they’re partners. Here’s what actually works when you’re dealing with tiny humans who have the attention span of goldfish:

Start ridiculously simple and build gradually. With Yael, we began with just the first line of the Shema when she was 6 months old. We used a gentle, melodic voice and focused on making it feel comforting rather than obligatory. By age 3, she was covering her own eyes and saying the Hebrew words with accuracy that impressed the rabbi (and made me slightly competitive with other Jewish parents, not gonna lie).

Make it physical and sensory. The eye-covering aspect of the Shema is perfect for young children who learn through touch and movement. We sit close together, often with Diana on my lap and Yael snuggled beside us. The physical closeness helps both girls feel secure and makes the prayer feel like a special family moment rather than a religious chore.

Use translation and explanation without overthinking it. While we recite the Hebrew, we also explain what it means in age-appropriate terms. For Yael, we’ve explained that “Shema” means “listen” and that we’re telling God we believe in Him. For Diana, we simply say “God loves you” while she mimics covering her eyes (though sometimes she covers her ears, her nose, basically any facial feature within reach).

Create routine and predictability like your sanity depends on it. The Shema happens at the exact same point every single night: after bath time, after books, after teeth brushing. It’s literally the last thing we do before bed. This predictability helps both girls know what to expect and creates anticipation for the special moment.

The most important lesson? Keep it positive and pressure-free. Some nights, one or both girls are too tired or cranky to participate fully. We continue the routine anyway, letting them see us pray even if they don’t join in. The goal is creating a consistent, loving practice that feels like comfort rather than obligation.

After we finish the Shema, we always end the same way: “Amen, laila tov” (good night in Hebrew), then “I love you,” “I love you more,” “I love you most,” “I love you to infinity and beyond.” It’s our little family ritual that bookends the ancient prayer with something completely our own.

The plot twists nobody expected

After three and a half years of consistent bedtime Shema practice, the benefits extend far beyond better sleep (though both girls do sleep well, which I’m grateful for). Yael has developed a sophisticated understanding of gratitude and reflection that surprises visitors and makes me wonder if we accidentally raised a tiny philosopher.

She naturally talks about being thankful for good things and has learned to process difficult emotions through our bedtime conversations. When she was upset about a friend not sharing toys at preschool, she brought it up during our quiet time together and we talked through her feelings. These moments of connection happen because we’ve created space for them.

Yael goes to Hebrew school, so her recognition of Hebrew letters and understanding of Jewish tradition comes from multiple sources. But there’s something special about the bedtime practice that makes the connection feel more personal and intimate than classroom learning.

Perhaps most significantly, the practice has given both girls a framework for handling uncertainty and fear. When Yael was scared during a recent thunderstorm (and Miami storms don’t mess around), she asked to say the Shema together. The familiar words and ritual provided comfort that no amount of rational explanation could match. Sometimes ancient wisdom beats modern parenting techniques.

For our family, the bedtime Shema has become more than a religious practice, it’s a daily reminder of connection, protection, and meaning. In a world that often feels chaotic and unpredictable, these ancient words offer something invaluable: a way to end each day with faith, gratitude, and love.

The bigger picture

The bedtime Shema represents something remarkable: an ancient practice that perfectly serves modern family needs. It combines the developmental benefits that research demonstrates with the spiritual significance that generations of Jewish families have cherished. For parents seeking meaningful ways to connect with their children while honoring tradition, this practice offers a powerful model.

But here’s the key insight: it’s not that Jewish families have discovered the perfect bedtime routine (trust me, we still have our share of bedtime battles). It’s that intentional spiritual practices can transform ordinary moments into opportunities for connection and growth. Whether you’re Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, or just spiritually curious, the principle remains valuable: ending each day with gratitude, protection, and love creates a foundation for resilient, connected families.

As the last prayers fade and the girls drift off to sleep, I’m reminded that some of the most profound parenting happens in the quiet moments. The ancient words of the Shema, whispered in the darkness, create a bridge between the sacred and the everyday, exactly where modern families need it most.

And honestly? If a 3,000-year-old prayer can help two little girls feel safe and loved while teaching them about gratitude and connection to something bigger than themselves, I’ll take it. Some parenting wins are worth celebrating, even if they come with ancient Hebrew homework.

Full disclosure, since I’d feel weird not saying it: this is the exact itch that made me build Derekh Learning , an app that uses AI as a study partner for Torah and Talmud. It’s not a bedtime Shema app. It’s for the part of you that reads the prayer and then wonders what it actually means. If that’s you, it’s on the App Store.

Bedtime Shema FAQ

What is the bedtime Shema?

The bedtime Shema, or Kriat Shema al HaMitah, is the Shema said in bed right before sleep. It comes from the Torah’s instruction to say these words “when thou liest down.” Families with young kids usually keep it short: the first line, Baruch Shem, and sometimes the V’ahavta.

Which paragraphs are said in the bedtime Shema?

The full traditional version includes a prayer forgiving anyone who wronged you, the Hamapil blessing, all three paragraphs of the Shema, and several psalms. Most families with little kids say the first line and Baruch Shem, and some add the V’ahavta paragraph.

What age should kids start saying the Shema?

There’s no minimum age. We started when Yael was 6 months old with just the first line, and by age 3 she was covering her own eyes and saying the Hebrew herself.

Why do you cover your eyes during the Shema?

The custom goes back to the Talmud, which describes Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi passing his hands over his face while saying the first line of the Shema. For kids, it’s also a simple way to shut out the room and focus for a few seconds.

How to Build an Authentic Personal Brand That Stands Out in 2025

Mon, 26 May 2025 14:48:46 GMT

Stop Trying to Stand Out (And Start Standing For Something Instead)

You know that feeling when you’re scrolling LinkedIn and every other post sounds like it was written by the same “thought leadership” robot?

“Here are 7 secrets successful entrepreneurs know…”

“This mindset shift changed everything…”

“Unpopular opinion: [insert completely popular opinion]”

Here’s the thing, I could never bring myself to write like that. Every time I tried to craft one of those generic “thought leader” posts, I’d stare at the screen for five minutes, delete it, and close my laptop. It felt faker than a three-dollar bill.

But that left me in a weird spot. I knew I had valuable insights from my work at DoorLoop and building Zossoz , but I was paralyzed by this question: How do you stand out in a crowded market without sounding like everyone else… when being like everyone else makes you want to crawl out of your own skin?

Welcome to the Authenticity Crisis

Here’s the thing nobody wants to admit: the personal branding space has reached peak saturation, and most of us are caught between staying silent or sounding like robots .

The numbers are wild, only 1% of LinkedIn’s 1.1 billion users actually post regularly , yet somehow it feels like everyone’s saying the same thing. And get this: while 75% of decision-makers say thought leadership gets their attention, only 23% actually become customers . That gap? It’s the authenticity chasm, and most of us are either falling into it or avoiding it entirely.

I’ve been Director of Customer Websites at DoorLoop for a while now, and I’ve watched countless entrepreneurs make the same mistake I almost made: thinking you have to choose between being authentic and being heard .

The Story-Driven Contrast Method (Or: How to Be Heard Without Losing Your Soul)

After wrestling with this for months, I discovered what I now call the Story-Driven Contrast Method. It’s deceptively simple but incredibly powerful.

Instead of choosing between authenticity and visibility, focus on being distinctly YOU in a way that serves your audience.

Here’s how it works:

Step 1: Dig Into Your Defining Moments

Forget the highlight reel for a minute. What are the moments that actually shaped how you think? The failures that taught you something nobody talks about? The weird experiences that gave you an unusual perspective?

For me, it was the brutal job search during the pandemic. I got rejected from everything, high-level positions where I was “too qualified, “ entry-level roles where I wasn’t qualified enough, and yeah, even part-time sales at Best Buy. The job market basically told me I existed in some impossible middle ground where I was simultaneously overqualified and underqualified for everything.

Until my friend David (who’s also a DoorLoop cofounder) referred me for a support and onboarding role, and my first boss Matt took a chance on someone who probably looked like a career mess on paper. That experience taught me something most people in business don’t talk about: sometimes your biggest breakthrough comes not from your credentials, but from someone believing in your potential when nobody else will .

While everyone in my space talks about “optimizing your LinkedIn for recruiters” and “networking your way to the top, “ I learned that real opportunities often come through genuine relationships and people who see something in you that traditional hiring processes miss .

That story isn’t unique because it’s dramatic, it’s unique because it’s mine and it shaped my contrarian view that real business success often comes from the relationships and opportunities that don’t fit the traditional playbook .

Step 2: Identify Your Natural Contrasts

Look around your industry. What is everyone else doing that makes you internally cringe? What conventional wisdom makes you want to stand up and say “actually, that’s not how it works”?

In the web design world, everyone talks about “conversion optimization” and “growth hacking.” But after building websites for hundreds of property management companies, I’ve learned that the best websites aren’t the flashiest ones, they’re the ones that make complex businesses feel simple .

That’s my contrast. While others focus on tricks and tactics, I focus on clarity and simplicity. Not because I’m trying to be different, but because my experience taught me what actually works.

Step 3: Tell Your Story Through That Lens

This is where the magic happens. Your unique story + your natural contrast = a memorable brand position.

Justin Welsh built a $10M+ business by being radically transparent about burnout in a world of “hustle harder” messaging. His contrast wasn’t forced, it came from his real experience of achieving traditional success and realizing it wasn’t sustainable.

Jay Clouse built Creator Science by focusing on evidence-based strategies instead of motivational fluff. His contrast emerged from his analytical background and frustration with “just trust the process” advice.

Noah Kagan shares both his Facebook firing and AppSumo success because his contrast is about honest struggle alongside practical tactics, not hiding the messy parts.

The pattern? They’re not trying to be contrarian for the sake of it. Their contrasts emerge naturally from their actual experiences.

Your Authentic Contrast Framework

Here’s a simple exercise I use with my Zossoz consulting clients:

The Three-Mirror Method:

The Rearview Mirror : What failure or struggle taught you something your industry ignores?
The Fun-House Mirror : What conventional wisdom in your space makes you shake your head?
The Clear Mirror : How do these combine to create your natural point of view?

Example: Let’s say you’re a financial advisor. Maybe your rearview mirror moment was watching your parents struggle with confusing investment advice. The fun-house mirror is how everyone in finance speaks in jargon and complex strategies. Your clear mirror position might be: “Financial planning should be as simple as explaining it to your teenager.”

That’s not revolutionary, but it’s authentic and it’s yours.

The Miami Heat Principle

As a Miami Heat fan (yes, even through the rough seasons), I’ve learned something about building a winning culture: it’s not about having the flashiest players, it’s about having players who fit your system .

The Heat Way isn’t about being different for the sake of being different. It’s about identifying what works for them (grit, conditioning, teamwork) and doubling down on it consistently, even when other teams chase shiny new strategies .

Your personal brand works the same way. Find your authentic contrast, then commit to it completely.

Making It Practical (Because Theory Without Action Is Just Therapy)

Week 1 : Write down 5 moments that genuinely changed how you think about your industry. Don’t edit yourself, just dump them out.

Week 2 : Identify 3 things everyone in your space does that you do differently (not better or worse, just differently ).

Week 3 : Write one piece of content that combines a personal story with your contrarian view. Share it and see how people respond.

Week 4 : Double down on what resonates. Your audience will tell you when you’ve hit authentic gold.

The entrepreneurs breaking through in 2025 aren’t the ones with the biggest audiences, they’re the ones building the most authentic connections. They understand that in a world of AI-generated content and recycled advice, being genuinely human is the ultimate differentiator.

Here’s the Thing About Standing For Something

Building an authentic personal brand isn’t about manufacturing uniqueness, it’s about having the courage to be consistently yourself, even when that self goes against the grain.

My Jewish identity shapes how I think about community and long-term relationships in business. My experience as a dad influences my approach to sustainable growth over burnout culture. My Miami roots (and yes, my Dolphins fandom despite their ability to break my heart) taught me about loyalty and optimism in the face of repeated disappointment.

These aren’t branding decisions, they’re just who I am. And when I stopped trying to hide or minimize these parts of myself, my business started growing in ways that felt sustainable and actually fun.

The market doesn’t need another generic “marketing expert.” But it might need someone who builds websites like they’re designing a home for a family, with care, intention, and the understanding that the people using it are real humans with real problems.

That’s not unique because I decided to be different. It’s unique because it’s the natural intersection of my experiences, values, and the lessons I’ve learned from building hundreds of websites for real businesses.

Your authentic contrast is already there. You just have to stop trying so hard to sound like everyone else and start trusting that your real story, and the perspective it gave you, is exactly what your audience needs to hear.

Want to grab coffee and brainstorm your authentic contrast? I’m always down to help fellow entrepreneurs find their real voice. Hit me up on LinkedIn or shoot me a message at Zossoz . Because honestly? The world has enough thought leadership robots. What it really needs is more humans willing to share their actual thoughts.

If you want the systematized version of all this, that’s CAFECITO . Same idea, more homework: get your voice down on paper once so your AI tools quit sanding the edges off it.

And if you’re in Miami and want to commiserate about the Dolphins while we’re at it, even better.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Your Value Prop Isn't Broken. You Just Don't Know Your Own Story

Thu, 22 May 2025 14:09:23 GMT

You know what’s frustrating? When you know your business delivers real value, but every time you try to explain it, you sound like every other company in your space.

“We provide comprehensive solutions.” “We’re customer-focused.” “We deliver results.”

Ugh. Even typing that makes me want to close the browser tab.

The problem isn’t that you don’t have a strong value proposition, it’s that you’re approaching it backwards. Most of us (myself included) start with what we think makes us special, then try to convince people why that matters.

But here’s what I’ve learned running customer website projects at DoorLoop and building brands through Zossoz : your best value proposition is hiding in plain sight; in the success stories you’ve already created.

Here’s the Thing About Value Props

Instead of brainstorming what makes you unique, start by looking backward. I call it the “Reverse Engineering Success” method, and it’s way simpler than it sounds.

The idea is to study your most successful client relationships and identify the exact value they received. What specific problems did you solve? What measurable results did they achieve? Then, turn these real-world successes into your value proposition.

The Method That Actually Works

Grab your three most successful client relationships and ask yourself:

What specific problem did I solve for them? Not the surface-level stuff like “we built them a website” or “we provided consulting.” Dig deeper. Did you help them stop losing customers to competitors? Did you free up hours of their week? Did you help them finally feel confident about their brand?

What measurable results did they get? This is where most people get squeamish because tracking results feels like work. But if you can’t measure your impact, you can’t sell it. Revenue increases, time saved, leads generated, customer retention, whatever applies to your business. Get specific.

What was different about how you approached their situation? This is the secret sauce. Maybe you spent extra time understanding their industry. Maybe you caught something other vendors missed. Maybe you just explained things in a way that finally clicked for them.

Why This Beats Generic Positioning

Think about it this way: when you base your value prop on real results, you’re not making promises, you’re sharing a track record.

Instead of saying “We help businesses grow, “ you can say something like “We’ve helped X number of businesses increase their online sales by an average of Y% within Z timeframe through our proven strategy framework.”

The difference? One is a promise anyone can make. The other is a track record only you can claim.

Your Turn to Reverse Engineer

Here’s your homework (and yes, as a dad to two little ones, I’m comfortable assigning homework):

Step 1: Pick three clients where you absolutely knocked it out of the park. Step 2: Write down the exact problem you solved and the specific results they got. Step 3: Look for the pattern, what’s the common thread in how you approach these challenges? Step 4: Turn that pattern into a simple statement: “We help [type of business] achieve [specific outcome] by [your unique approach].”

Don’t overthink it. The best value propositions feel obvious once you see them, because they’re based on stuff that actually happened, not marketing fantasies.

The Real Talk Moment

Look, I get it. This feels vulnerable. You’re putting real numbers and real claims out there instead of hiding behind safe, generic language. But that’s exactly why it works.

Your success stories aren’t just case studies, they’re your competitive advantage. Most businesses are so busy looking forward that they forget to mine the gold that’s already in their client relationships.

The companies crushing it in their markets aren’t the ones with the fanciest websites or the biggest marketing budgets. They’re the ones who can clearly articulate the specific value they’ve already delivered to real people.

Time to start treating your wins that way.

What’s your best client success story? I’d love to hear about it. Drop me a line on LinkedIn, nothing makes my day quite like hearing about businesses that are absolutely crushing it.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Why Miami's Energy Fuels My Best Ideas

Tue, 13 May 2025 02:12:00 GMT

You know that feeling when you’re stuck in traffic on I-95, windows down, and suddenly some random billboard sparks the perfect solution to a problem you’re having? Yeah, that’s Miami for you. This city doesn’t just inspire, it demands creativity.

I’ve lived here my whole life (well, minus that one college semester when I thought I was too cool for the 305), and honestly? I can’t imagine doing what I do anywhere else. There’s something about this place that turns ordinary Tuesday afternoons into brainstorming goldmines.

The Beautiful Chaos That Works

Miami is contradictions wrapped in neon and served with a side of café con leche. One minute you’re on Brickell surrounded by glass towers that scream “serious business, “ and twenty minutes later you’re in Little Havana watching dominoes slam on tables while someone’s abuelita gives unsolicited life advice. It’s messy, it’s loud, and it makes zero logical sense, which is exactly why it works for creativity.

When I’m working on a project for DoorLoop or developing strategy for a Zossoz client, I need that cognitive dissonance. You can’t think in straight lines when your environment refuses to follow them. Miami taught me that the best ideas come from collision, cultures, languages, generations, and perspectives all bumping into each other until something new emerges.

Take a few weeks ago. I’m driving down MacArthur Causeway after a call with a website customer who asked for advice on positioning their property management company. They were frustrated, felt like every angle they tried sounded exactly like their competitors. I’m stuck in that usual causeway traffic, looking at the skyline transition from downtown’s glass towers to the Beach’s Art Deco charm, when it hits me. Here’s this bridge literally connecting two completely different worlds that somehow work together. I called them back that afternoon with a simple question: “What if you stopped trying to sound like the biggest player and started owning the fact that you actually bridge the gap between old-school service and modern efficiency?” Sometimes the best insights come when you’re just stuck in Miami traffic, not staring at a strategy deck.

The lesson? Sometimes you need your environment to challenge your assumptions before you can challenge your client’s.

Heat, Hustle, and Happy Accidents

Let’s be real, Miami’s not for everyone. The humidity makes your laptop feel like it’s running a fever, the traffic can turn a 15-minute drive into a 45-minute meditation session (whether you want one or not), and don’t get me started on parking in South Beach. But here’s the thing: all that friction creates energy.

I do my best thinking when I’m slightly uncomfortable. Not miserable; just enough friction to keep my brain engaged. There’s something about walking through Lincoln Road at 2 PM in August that makes you appreciate the air conditioning and forces you to think more efficiently. When you know you’ve got maybe ten minutes before you start melting, you cut through the fluff and get to the good stuff fast.

Plus, Miami runs on hustle in a way that’s different from New York or LA. It’s not about climbing some predetermined ladder, it’s about creating your own ladder out of whatever materials you can find. Everyone here is building something, whether it’s a tech startup, a food truck empire, or the next great reggaeton career. That entrepreneurial energy is contagious.

The Melting Pot Advantage

You want to understand diverse audiences? Live in Miami for a week. I’ve learned more about cultural nuance from overheard conversations at Publix than from any MBA textbook. When your neighbor might be a Colombian architect, your kid’s teacher could be Haitian-American, and your barista is probably working on their Venezuelan food blog, you develop cultural fluency without even trying.

This matters more than people realize in branding and strategy work. When I’m helping a client think through messaging, I’m not just considering demographics on a spreadsheet. I’m thinking about Yael’s preschool teacher, who juggles multiple jobs and makes every purchasing decision with her extended family in mind. Or my friend Ana, whose husband started his party accessory business with one photo booth and now has multiple party offerings, because he understood exactly what his community needed.

Real talk: The best brands don’t just talk to their audience, they understand the full context of their audience’s lives. Miami forces you to see that context everywhere you look.

Sports Metaphors and Sunday Revelations

Okay, sidebar, but this connects, I promise. Watching the Heat play taught me something crucial about creativity and momentum. Pat Riley always talks about “championship habits, “ and it’s not just about basketball. It’s about creating systems that work when everything else is chaos.

Miami sports (yes, even when the Dolphins break my heart annually) operate on pure energy and improvisation. We’re not the biggest market or the most traditional franchise in any sport, but we find ways to compete by being different. Think about it, the Heat’s culture isn’t just about winning; it’s about outworking and out-thinking everyone else. Inter Miami brought Messi here not just for his talent, but because this city thrives on impossible dreams becoming reality.

That’s how I approach every project. We might not have the biggest budget or the most conventional strategy, but we’re going to find an angle that nobody else is exploring.

Where Ideas Actually Happen

You probably think I do my best thinking in some pristine home office with motivational quotes on the wall. Wrong. My best ideas happen in the most random Miami moments:

Sitting at Las Vegas at 9 PM, watching the organized chaos of family dinners
Sitting in traffic on the I-95 Express Lane, when my brain finally has nowhere else to go
Walking around Yellow Green Market while Yael and Diana chug their slushies
That 20-minute window between putting the kids to bed and Mazi and I collapsing on the couch

Miami doesn’t give you designated “inspiration time.” It weaves creativity into the ordinary messiness of life. And honestly? That’s exactly how real business problems get solved, not in conference rooms, but in the spaces between planned activities.

Building Something Real

Here’s what I’ve learned after 39 years in this city: Miami’s energy isn’t just about the beaches and nightlife (though both are nice). It’s about the relentless optimism of people who chose to make something from nothing. Whether you’re here because your family fled something terrible, or you came chasing a dream, or you just got stuck and decided to make it work, everyone here is building.

That energy flows into everything I do with Zossoz and at DoorLoop. Every website we build, every brand strategy we develop, every client conversation I have is infused with this idea that we’re not just creating marketing materials, we’re helping people build something that matters.

When someone trusts you with their business story, you better bring the same energy they brought to building that business in the first place. Miami taught me that energy is contagious, and creativity is a team sport.

So yeah, I could probably do this work anywhere. But why would I want to? This city pushes me to think differently, connect authentically, and never settle for boring solutions.

Plus, where else can you grab killer Cuban coffee at 2 AM while brainstorming brand strategies?

That’s the Miami advantage, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What’s your city’s creative secret? Drop me a line. I’m always curious about how place shapes perspective. And if you’re ever in Miami and want to talk branding over cafecito, you know where to find me.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

From Hero to Human: What My Dad Taught Me About Work, Grit & Life

Mon, 05 May 2025 22:06:05 GMT

How my father’s imperfect presence, relentless drive, and 6 a.m. phone calls shaped the dad, and professional, I am today.

There was a time I thought my dad might actually be invincible.

He was the guy in the power suit, helping build what would become Elizabeth Arden from nothing with his uncle, pulling long days as VP of Sales, and still somehow finding time to show up in dad-mode. He’d close a deal in the morning and still coach me through halftime like he was Pat Riley disguised as an exhausted Jewish father. He wasn’t just in the room. He was in it. And for a long time, I didn’t question that image.

I also didn’t win much growing up.

Let me explain.

My dad didn’t hand out easy victories. We’d play basketball, chess, even board games like Monopoly (where, yes, he actually would gloat when he bankrupted me). At the time? It pissed me off. But now? I get it. He wasn’t being cruel. He was training me, to push through, to never expect a handout, to work harder if I wanted to win.

That mentality shaped me. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I’ve done well at DoorLoop . When the going gets weird or overwhelming, I don’t flinch. “We’ll figure it out” is basically my job description at this point, and it’s a mindset I owe to him.

The Lessons Were Never Just About Work

Sure, he taught me business, how to make a connection, how to close, how to really listen. But it ran deeper. I learned how to shake a hand from my dad. How to actually look someone in the eye and not just nod your way through a conversation. He never said, “Treat the janitor the same as the CEO.” He showed me. Every interaction he had, whether it was with the valet guy or some Fortune 500 exec, looked the same: firm handshake, warm smile, full attention.

That sticks with you.

He taught me about hard work without saying the phrase “hard work.” It was the 6 a.m. wake-ups. The “just one more call” at dinner. The mental notes he’d scribble on receipts or napkins or, one time, the back of a Blockbuster late fee notice. The man made business happen on the back of chaos and charisma.

But the biggest lesson? Grit. Not just the kind where you hustle for the sake of hustling. I’m talking about that stubborn, sweaty kind of persistence. The “yeah this sucks but we’re still doing it” mentality. He didn’t preach it. He lived it.

He didn’t need to tell you he was strong. You just knew.

And then one day. I didn’t.

When the Cape Slipped

I still remember the first time I heard fear in his voice. I was in my twenties. We were talking about some business issue he was facing, nothing specific I can recall now, but his voice cracked. Just for a second. Just enough.

And it wrecked me.

Not because I lost respect. Quite the opposite. That sliver of vulnerability gave me something I’d never seen before: the weight he carried. The mask he wore for us. The truth that even the strongest people are scared sometimes. And it made me love him more. Respect him more.

It’s easy to be confident when things are going your way. It’s a whole different kind of strength to show up anyway when they’re not.

And Then… I Became Him

Fast forward. I’m a dad now, two kids, a house full of toddler chaos, a career, a company on the side. Life is bananas. Some mornings I feel like I’m sprinting in place. But almost every day, I pause for twenty minutes.

Why?

Because of our coffee calls.

Every morning, I call my dad. No script. No agenda. Just the two of us driving to work in Miami traffic. We talk about nothing and everything. Yael’s latest opinionated streak. Diana’s lack of chill. Branding problems. The Heat and Dolphins heartbreaks. My sisters. Whatever.

We just talk.

And that song Cats in the Cradle? Yeah. That one haunts me. You know the story, dad’s too busy, then the kid’s too busy, and suddenly they’re both older and full of regret. Somewhere between the MBA, the startup hustle, and chasing two tiny dictators around the house, I caught myself becoming that guy. The one who says, “I’ll call later.”

So now I call first.

The Framework: Breaking the Cycle

If you’re reading this and seeing yourself in either role, the too-busy parent or the adult kid still waiting for that connection, here’s what I’ve learned about not becoming the song:

Ritualize connection - Our coffee calls are sacred. They happen no matter what. Your version might be Friday night dinner. A walk. A ten-minute FaceTime. Doesn’t matter, just make it non-negotiable.
Quality beats quantity - It’s 20 minutes. But we’re in it. Focused. Present. It’s not about the length. It’s about the depth.
Share real work - Some of our best talks happen when I ask for advice on a pitch or he tells me about the projects he’s working on this week. It’s not “family vs. business”. It’s family in business.
Acknowledge the gaps - There were missed games. Missed science fairs. And yeah, it hurt. But we’ve talked about it. We’ve said it out loud. That honesty helps fill the space that silence left behind.

And here’s what makes those calls work:

No performance pressure , We can both be half-distracted and still fully present.
Zero expectations , We’re not trying to accomplish anything. That’s what makes the space safe.
No more superhero act , I tell him when work’s kicking my ass. He tells me when his knee hurts. That mutual honesty is the whole point.

My Dad’s Not Perfect. That’s Why He’s My Hero.

The man missed events. He didn’t always know how to say the right thing. But when he showed up? He showed up. He’d find ways to be there, whether it was dissecting my opponent’s weaknesses during halftime or giving a post-game breakdown that sounded suspiciously like an ESPN analyst with a personal stake in my self-esteem.

I used to think being a hero meant being flawless.

Now I know better.

It means showing up scared. Messing up. Saying sorry. Coaching from the sidelines, even when no one asked you to. Calling every morning, even when you’re tired. Letting your kid see you, truly see you, and loving them enough to let go of the cape.

As I navigate the beautiful chaos of raising Yael and Diana while building my own career path between DoorLoop and Zossoz , I’m grateful for the daily reminder that being a hero isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being present.

What about you? Who’s the hero in your life that you’ve come to appreciate as beautifully human? Drop me a note. I’d love to hear your story over a virtual coffee sometime. After all, the best conversations happen when we remove the capes and just talk like people.

Leadership Lessons from Passover: What Moses, Miriam, Aaron and Pharaoh Can Teach Us (No Burning Bush Required)

Sat, 12 Apr 2025 03:59:26 GMT

Ancient Leadership, Modern Application: Humility, Delegation, Celebration, and (Please) No Plagues

Ever notice how the best leadership insights come from the most unexpected places? The other day, while scrolling through LinkedIn’s endless parade of “I’m humbled to announce” posts and corporate buzzword bingo, I found myself thinking about Passover’s approach. Not just because I’ve been practicing the Four Questions with Yael (who, at 4, has mastered the art of asking “why” about EVERYTHING… seriously, try explaining why the sky is blue to a preschooler at 7am), but because these ancient characters offer better leadership lessons than most $4, 000 executive seminars I’ve sat through.

Let’s be real, between juggling toddler negotiations at home (“No, Diana, we don’t eat crayons even if they’re the same color as blueberries”) and website strategy meetings at DoorLoop , I’ve become something of an amateur leadership anthropologist. And what I’ve discovered is that the Passover story isn’t just a religious narrative; it’s basically the original leadership case study that Harvard Business School wishes they’d published first.

Moses: The Reluctant CEO Who Couldn’t Stop Saying “I’m Not Qualified”

Moses is the original impostor syndrome poster child. When God offers him the biggest promotion in history at the burning bush, his response is essentially, “Have you checked my LinkedIn? I think you’ve got the wrong guy. Maybe try my brother?”

This is what makes Moses so fascinating as a leader. He doesn’t march into Pharaoh’s palace with the swagger of a tech founder who just secured Series A funding and bought matching Allbirds for the entire executive team. He’s terrified. He stutters. He begs God to send someone else. Yet his reluctance becomes his superpower.

The most effective leaders often don’t want the job in the first place. They lead from a place of service rather than ego. I’ve seen this repeatedly in my consulting work, the best leaders aren’t the ones who bulldoze their way into the C-suite; they’re the ones who recognize the weight of responsibility and approach it with appropriate humility. (And usually without the 27-slide deck explaining why they’re perfect for the role.)

Moses also mastered the art of delegation (after some serious burnout and a reality check from his father-in-law Yitro, who was basically the world’s first executive coach). If the guy who literally spoke to God needed help, maybe we should all embrace the “I can’t do everything” mindset a bit more readily. I’m still working on this one myself, just ask my wife about the time I tried to redesign our website, cook Shabbat dinner, and assemble a toddler bed simultaneously.

Aaron: The Ultimate Wingman (With Mixed Results)

If Moses is the reluctant CEO, Aaron is the COO who actually makes things happen. He’s the communicator, the implementer, the guy who translates vision into reality while his brother is up on the mountain getting the big-picture strategy download.

But Aaron’s story also shows us the danger of prioritizing harmony over hard conversations. When the Israelites demand a golden calf, Aaron doesn’t push back, he gives them exactly what they want. It’s like the product manager who knows the feature is a terrible idea but builds it anyway because the client is screaming for it. We’ve all been there, right?

Great leadership partnerships require both support and accountability. In my years at DoorLoop, I’ve learned that the best collaborators aren’t yes-men; they’re the colleagues who’ll privately tell me when my brilliant idea actually isn’t so brilliant. The ones who say, “AJ, I get where you’re going with this, but have you considered this?”

Aaron reminds us that even in supportive roles, we need the courage to speak truth to power, especially when that “power” is the mob mentality of an anxious organization. Or a team that’s convinced that adding just one more feature will solve everything.

Miriam: The Community Builder Who Knew Celebration Matters

While the guys were busy with logistics and laws, Miriam understood something fundamental about leadership: people need moments of joy and connection.

After crossing the Red Sea, it’s Miriam who leads the women in song and dance. In the midst of a high-stress situation (fleeing slavery, minor detail), she creates space for collective celebration. This wasn’t just a nice-to-have; it was essential for community resilience.

Great leaders don’t just solve problems, they cultivate moments of shared meaning. This is something I try to remember both at work and with my daughters. When Diana takes her first steps or when a team launches a new website after weeks of debugging, taking time to celebrate isn’t frivolous, it’s what gives meaning to the journey. Though I’ll admit my celebration dance moves aren’t quite as inspiring as Miriam’s probably were.

Miriam’s leadership style was proactive rather than reactive. From watching over baby Moses in the bulrushes to leading celebrations, she didn’t wait for permission to lead. She saw what needed to be done and did it, regardless of formal authority. No “waiting for alignment” or “circling back after the next sync” for her.

Pharaoh: The Toxic Boss We’ve All Had

Then there’s Pharaoh, the ultimate cautionary tale. Despite facing increasing evidence that his leadership approach wasn’t working (frogs, locusts, darkness… subtle hints), he doubles down on control and rigidity.

We’ve all worked for a Pharaoh at some point, haven’t we? The kind of boss who responds to every crisis by demanding more bricks with less straw. The one who sees ten plagues as a personal challenge rather than feedback.

Pharaoh’s leadership failure wasn’t just moral; it was practical. His stubbornness cost him his workforce, his firstborn son, and eventually his army. Talk about a catastrophic ROI. I’ve seen startups crash with better metrics than that.

Leadership inflexibility isn’t just unpleasant, it’s unsustainable. I’ve watched brands and businesses implode because leaders couldn’t adapt their mental models when reality changed. The market, like the plagues, has a way of humbling those who refuse to listen. And unlike Pharaoh, most of us don’t get dramatic background music when our strategies fail.

The Passover Leadership Framework

What emerges from these four characters is a leadership spectrum that’s remarkably applicable today:

Lead with humility (Moses): Recognize your limitations and build teams that complement your weaknesses. Nobody expects you to part seas on your own.
Balance collaboration with conviction (Aaron): Support others while maintaining ethical boundaries. Sometimes the team needs to hear “no, “ even when “yes” would be easier.
Foster community resilience (Miriam): Create spaces for celebration and collective meaning. The spreadsheets can wait; the human connections can’t.
Embrace adaptability (anti-Pharaoh): When evidence suggests your approach isn’t working, have the courage to change. Before, you know, the locusts arrive.

I’ve found myself returning to these principles repeatedly over the years. The best brands, like the best leaders, balance vision with humility, conviction with collaboration, and strategy with humanity. And they don’t need ten plagues to change direction when something isn’t working.

From Matzah to Modern Leadership

As I prepare for another Passover with my in-laws (now with two daughters to chase around the table, pray for me and my wine glass), I’m reminded that leadership lessons don’t always come from the expected sources. Sometimes they’re hiding in ancient stories we’ve heard since childhood, sandwiched between the horseradish and charoset.

The Passover narrative reminds us that leadership isn’t about having all the answers, it’s about asking the right questions. It’s not about perfect execution but about purpose-driven persistence. And most importantly, it’s not about the leader as hero, but the leader as servant to something greater than quarterly targets.

So the next time you’re facing a leadership challenge, whether it’s a website redesign, a brand pivot, or just getting a toddler to put on shoes (a negotiation that would make Moses himself sweat), channel a bit of Moses’ humility, Aaron’s implementation skills, Miriam’s community-building, and absolutely none of Pharaoh’s stubbornness.

The sea may not part for you, but I promise the results will be worth celebrating. Preferably with better wine than the stuff we drink at the Seder.

And if the Passover story left you wanting to actually sit with the text instead of just quoting it at people once a year, that’s what I built Derekh Learning for.

What leadership lessons have you found in unexpected places? Drop a comment below or hit me up on LinkedIn. And if your brand needs a little exodus from mediocrity, that’s exactly what we do at Zossoz . No plagues required.

The Ted Lasso Darts Scene: A Lesson in Life, Leadership, and Not Being a Jerk

Wed, 19 Mar 2025 19:12:41 GMT

How a pub game, a smug villain, and a misquote taught us the most important lesson about people.

Which episode is the Ted Lasso darts scene in?

The Ted Lasso darts scene is in Season 1, Episode 8, “The Diamond Dogs,” which premiered on Apple TV+ on September 18, 2020 . Ted plays Rupert at darts in the pub near the end. Stick around though, because the scene is a lot better than the trivia.

The short version: Rupert sized Ted up and never asked him a single question, and that’s exactly how he lost. Be curious, not judgmental. It’s the whole leadership lesson, and it works a long way from a pub dartboard.

You ever have one of those moments where a TV show hits you with a life lesson so good, you sit there staring at the screen like, Damn, I needed that? That’s exactly what happened when I watched Ted Lasso school Rupert in that legendary darts scene.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve seen it (if not, fix that), but this scene isn’t just about darts. It’s about life. It’s about people. And it’s about why the world would be a whole lot better if we stopped assuming we’ve got people figured out and just stayed curious instead.

Set the Scene: Arrogance Meets Aw-Shucks

So, here’s what’s happening. Ted, our mustachioed, biscuit-baking, endlessly optimistic hero, is at a pub with Rebecca. In walks Rupert, Rebecca’s ex-husband, the kind of guy who was probably born wearing a smug expression. He challenges Ted to a game of darts, fully expecting to humiliate him.

And Ted? Ted plays the part perfectly. He acts casual, makes some small talk, throws a few mediocre shots. He lets Rupert believe he’s got the upper hand.

But then, just as the game is about to end, Ted does what Ted does best: he drops a truth bomb so smooth it should be bottled and sold as whiskey.

The Walt Whitman (Maybe) Quote That Changed Everything

Ted starts telling a story. He says he was riding the train one day, minding his business, when he saw a quote graffitied on the wall:

“Be curious, not judgmental.”

Now, I should pause here to say that Walt Whitman never actually said this, but does it really matter? The point is the message, and the message is golden.

Ted goes on to say that his whole life, people underestimated him. They made fun of him, dismissed him, wrote him off as a joke. And why? Because they judged him instead of being curious about him. They assumed they knew everything just by looking at him.

But here’s the thing: if they’d been curious, they would’ve asked him, Hey Ted, do you play darts?

To which he would’ve happily responded:

“Yes. Every Sunday with my dad from ages 10 to 16.”

And then? Bullseye. Game over. Rupert loses.

Why This Hits So Hard

This scene is brilliant because it’s not just about Ted kicking Rupert’s ass in darts (though, let’s be honest, that’s satisfying as hell). It’s about how often we think we know people, when really, we don’t know a damn thing.

How many times do we assume stuff about someone based on their job, their clothes, the way they talk? We do it without even thinking.

The quiet guy at work? Probably boring.
The woman who stays home with her kids? Must not be ambitious.
The guy who cracks dad jokes? Can’t possibly be smart.

We do this all the time. And in doing it, we miss out. We miss out on knowing incredible people, learning unexpected things, and seeing the world in a way we never would’ve otherwise.

But curiosity ? Curiosity opens doors. Curiosity means you ask questions, listen, and actually see people for who they are. And when you do that, you realize that nobody is ever just one thing.

Why This Matters (Especially as a Dad)

As a dad, this message hits home. My daughters are still little, but I think about the world they’re growing up in, and if there’s one thing I want to teach them, it’s this.

Be curious. Ask questions. Assume people have stories you don’t know.

And I know, as a parent, I have to practice what I preach. Because let’s be real. I could look at my daughters and say, “You’re toddlers, you don’t understand big ideas yet.” Or, I could be curious. I could ask, What are they thinking about? What little things make their world go round today?

Spoiler: For Diana it’s usually COOKIES. But still.

Curiosity makes relationships stronger. It makes businesses run better. (Seriously, ever tried “helping” someone without actually listening to them? It’s a disaster.) It makes life richer.

And Ted Lasso nailed it in under five minutes with a dartboard and a smooth Midwestern drawl.

Final Thought: Don’t Be a Rupert

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be the guy who assumes he’s got it all figured out. I don’t want to be Rupert, laughing at people from across the room, convinced I’m better just because I said so.

I want to be the guy who asks questions, who listens, who finds out someone’s been playing darts every Sunday for six years before I challenge them to a game.

Because let’s be honest, Ted didn’t just win at darts that night. He won at life.

And if we’re paying attention, so can we.

Miami Heatwave: Vibes for the 305, A Playlist That Feels Like Home

Tue, 11 Mar 2025 18:22:11 GMT

From sunrise cafecitos to late-night reggaeton. This playlist is Miami.

Miami isn’t just where I live. It’s where I’m from. It’s the city that shaped me, the pulse of the 305 runs through my veins like a perfectly mixed cafecito. It’s the neon glow of Ocean Drive, the electric energy of Calle Ocho, and the unshakable rhythm of reggaeton blasting from a convertible on the Palmetto. Miami is a feeling , and if you don’t feel it? You’re doing it wrong.

This playlist, Miami Heatwave: Vibes for the 305, is my love letter to the Magic City, the place that raised me, shaped me, and gave me an endless soundtrack to live by. If you’ve ever cruised down Ocean Drive with the windows down, pregamed with your friends before hitting South Beach, or danced until sunrise at a reggaeton-packed club, you’ll get it. And if you haven’t? Well, this playlist will take you there.

The Soundtrack to My City

Music is everything in Miami. It’s how we celebrate, how we mourn, how we turn a Tuesday into a block party. It’s why you can hear salsa, reggaeton, hip-hop, and deep house all within the same city block. So I wanted this playlist to reflect Miami’s energy, diversity, and unapologetic need to party .

Here’s how it flows:

Miami Sunrise: Smooth, Chill, & Breezy Vibes

Picture this: You’re walking down Ocean Drive just as the sun rises, the breeze off the water still cool, your cafecito in hand. This section starts slow, smooth, and vibey, Duke Dumont’s “Ocean Drive, “ Kygo & Whitney Houston’s “Higher Love, “ and Lost Frequencies’ “Reality” bring that laid-back, tropical house sound that sets the tone. This is Miami before the party starts.

Midday Beach Vibes: Latin Heat Meets Summer Chill

Now the sun’s up, and so is the energy. We’re talking Bad Bunny, J Balvin, Camila Cabello, and Manuel Turizo , a mix of reggaeton, bachata, and Latin pop to keep the vibe breezy but upbeat. Imagine lying on South Beach, the waves in front of you, the sound of speakers playing “Ojitos Lindos” behind you.

Afternoon Heat: Classic Latin Anthems & Reggaeton

This is where Miami’s DNA really kicks in, Conga lines at backyard BBQs, impromptu dance-offs at a block party, and the unmistakable “¡Dame más gasolina!” cutting through the air. Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina, “ Gente de Zona’s “La Gozadera, “ and Marc Anthony’s “Vivir Mi Vida” represent that Miami party soul that’s part salsa, part reggaeton, and all energy.

Sunset Turn-Up: Miami Dancefloor Anthems

If you’re not at a rooftop bar or pre-gaming in a Brickell high-rise by now, what are you even doing? This is where the bass gets heavier, the beats get faster, and Pitbull officially enters the chat. “Pepas, “ “Danza Kuduro, “ and “Don’t Stop the Party” bring the full reggaeton-meets-EDM crossover heat.

Miami Nightlife Peak: Hip-Hop, EDM, & Party Bangers

By this point, the party is fully unhinged. The bass is pounding, mojitos are flowing, and someone just yelled “DALE!” at full volume. This section is for the club bangers, the hip-hop legends, the 305 anthems , Trick Daddy, Rick Ross, DJ Khaled, Flo Rida, LMFAO, and of course, “I’m in Miami B*tch.” This is that prime-time Miami madness that makes this city a legendary place to go out.

Late Night Cool Down: Sultry Latin & Chill Trap

You survived the club, but you’re not done. Maybe you’re at a lounge in Wynwood, maybe you’re in the backseat of an Uber with the windows down, taking in the lights of downtown. This part of the playlist slows things down just enough , with moody reggaeton and Latin trap from Bad Bunny, Karol G, Becky G, and Ozuna to wrap up the night.

Sunrise Afterparty: Timeless Miami Classics & Goodbyes

It’s almost morning. Maybe you’re watching the sunrise over Biscayne Bay, maybe you’re eating a churro and rethinking your life choices. Either way, this is where the nostalgia hits: Will Smith’s “Miami, “ Gloria Estefan’s “Conga, “ and Phil Collins’ “In The Air Tonight” send you home with that only-in-Miami feeling.

Why This Playlist Matters

This playlist isn’t just a collection of songs. It’s a love letter to my hometown . It’s the sound of my childhood, my nights out, my city’s rich musical heritage. Miami is one of the most culturally diverse, musically influential, and straight-up fun cities in the world, and this playlist proves it.

So whether you’re a native, a transplant, or someone who just wants to feel like they’re in the 305 for a few hours, hit play and let Miami do the rest.

Dale!

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Why Bad Wi-Fi Is the Ultimate Test of Patience and Problem-Solving

Fri, 07 Mar 2025 23:23:01 GMT

Wi-Fi: The modern test of patience, problem-solving, and sheer willpower.

You ever feel like the universe is personally out to get you? Not in a major way, but in the small, soul-crushing moments, like when you’re on an important Zoom call, making a brilliant point, and suddenly… frozen. Your face locked in an unflattering mid-sentence expression, your voice lost in the abyss.

Or maybe you’re watching the Heat game, and they just brought in the second team with a healthy lead (you know they’re gonna blow it but you have to watch it), only for the screen to pixelate into some 8-bit nightmare from the early 2000s.

Nothing tests a person’s patience like bad Wi-Fi. It turns rational adults into enraged cavemen, slamming the router like it’s some sort of magical relic that just needs the right kind of force.

But here’s the thing: bad Wi-Fi isn’t just annoying. It’s a test. Of patience. Of resilience. Of your ability to problem-solve while suppressing the deep, primal urge to throw your router out the window.

The Five Stages of Wi-Fi Grief

Because, let’s be honest, dealing with bad Wi-Fi is a full-blown emotional journey.

Denial , No way. This has to be a fluke. You refresh. You stare at the loading screen like sheer willpower will make it work.
Anger , WHY is this happening RIGHT NOW?! You curse your internet provider, your router, maybe even your ancestors for passing down such unlucky Wi-Fi genes.
Bargaining , If it just reconnects, I swear I’ll stop streaming YouTube in 4K while downloading a 10GB file.
Depression , Guess I’ll never finish my work. Maybe I should quit everything and go live off the grid.
Acceptance , You sigh, grab your phone, and switch to mobile data, praying your carrier doesn’t hit you with overage charges.

Why Is Wi-Fi So Unpredictable?

Wi-Fi is like a toddler, completely irrational, does whatever it wants, and throws tantrums at the worst possible moments. One second, it’s fast. The next, it’s struggling to load a text message.

Some culprits?

Too many devices fighting for bandwidth. (Yeah, your smart fridge is part of the problem.)
Router placement , which apparently follows the same logic as feng shui.
Neighbor interference , because everyone and their grandma now has Wi-Fi, and all those signals are having an invisible battle in the air.

And the worst part? Calling customer service .

You already know what they’ll say:

“Have you tried resetting your router?”

Yes. Yes, I have. I have reset it so many times that I’m starting to feel like I’m in some tech-themed version of Groundhog Day.

How to Problem-Solve Like a Wi-Fi Whisperer

After dealing with bad internet enough times, you start to develop coping mechanisms. Some are practical. Some are pure desperation.

The Router Shuffle , Move it around like some kind of ancient artifact, hoping to find the one spot where it actually works.
The Ethernet Lifeline , When all else fails, plug in. Just like the good old days before everything went wireless and unreliable.
The “Ignore It” Approach , Sometimes, walking away and coming back later magically fixes things. It’s basically the tech equivalent of “have you tried turning it off and on again?”

Zen and the Art of Buffering

Here’s the reality: bad Wi-Fi is an unavoidable part of modern life. It’s an opportunity, though maybe not one we asked for, to practice patience, problem-solving, and creative thinking.

So the next time your internet dies in the middle of something important, maybe take a deep breath. Step outside. Hug your kids. Talk to your wife. Remind yourself that the world did exist before the internet. (Even if we all pretend it didn’t.)

And once you’ve reached that fleeting moment of Zen? Yeah… you’ll still be cursing at your router five minutes later.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Real Leaders Roll Up Their Sleeves, Not Just Talk About It

Thu, 27 Feb 2025 20:24:09 GMT

Why the Best Leaders Don’t Just Lead, They Get in the Trenches and Do the Work

Ever walked into work and found your COO assembling furniture? No? Just me?

The other day, I headed upstairs at DoorLoop and saw something that made me stop in my tracks, our COO, sleeves rolled up, putting together desks so the team could move into a bigger space.

No cameras. No big announcement. No “look at me, I’m such a hands-on leader” speech. Just him, an Allen wrench, and a pile of desk parts that, I guarantee you, were missing at least one critical screw.

And that right there? That’s real leadership.

Leadership Is More Than a Title

A lot of people think leadership is about telling people what to do. Giving orders, making decisions, sitting in meetings, and calling the shots from above. But the best leaders don’t just talk about culture. They live it.

It’s easy to post on LinkedIn about “teamwork” and “leading by example.” It’s a whole other thing to actually do it.

A COO’s job description doesn’t include furniture assembly (at least, I don’t think it does). But when leaders step up and do the work, no matter how small, it sends a powerful message:

No task is beneath you.
No role is more important than the people behind it.
Success isn’t built from the top. It’s built together.

And let’s be real, nothing earns respect more than seeing your boss sweating over the same problems as you.

Why Hands-On Leadership Matters

A company’s culture isn’t determined by mission statements or team-building retreats. It’s built in moments like these, the small, often unnoticed actions that define what kind of place this is to work.

When leadership gets in the trenches, it creates an environment where:

People feel valued. Employees don’t just want a paycheck; they want to know their work matters. Seeing leadership invest time and effort into something as small as a desk shows they care.
Trust is built. If leaders are willing to do the work alongside the team, it fosters trust. It’s a lot easier to follow someone who’s with you, not just above you.
Teams work harder. No one wants to let down a leader who’s in the fight with them. When leaders show they’re willing to hustle, teams step up and match that energy.

Forget Titles, Show Up Instead

At the end of the day, leadership isn’t about hierarchy. It’s about presence. It’s about showing up, doing the work, and proving, through actions, not words, that you’re invested in your people.

So, whether you’re running a company, leading a team, or just trying to be the kind of person others want to work with, remember:

The best leaders don’t just talk. They show up.
Leadership isn’t found in meetings. It’s built in moments.
Culture isn’t a buzzword. It’s the actions you take every single day.

And sometimes, it’s as simple as picking up an Allen wrench and getting to work.

Who’s the best hands-on leader you’ve ever worked with? Drop a story in the comments. I’d love to hear it.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

“Born Yesterday”: How Bluey Nails Parenting and Why It’s a Lesson for All of Us

Tue, 18 Feb 2025 19:32:19 GMT

Which Bluey episode is Born Yesterday?

“Born Yesterday” is Bluey Season 3, Episode 6 , and it first aired on November 26, 2021.

Why an Animated Dog Pretending to Eat Shoes Taught Me More About Parenting (and Life) Than Any Self-Help Book Ever Did.

Confession Time: I Watch Bluey Before My Kids (And Born Yesterday Still Blew My Mind)

Alright, I’ve got a confession. I, AJ Oberlender, a fully grown adult, watched Bluey before my kids did. And honestly? No regrets. Yael and Diana can wait their turn when new episodes drop because I’m hitting play first.

And one episode that’s permanently rented space in my brain? Born Yesterday. It’s seven minutes of parenting brilliance wrapped in humor, heart, and yes, anthropomorphic dogs who somehow understand life better than most humans I know.

Bandit’s Big Brain Move: Play Dumb, Win Parenting

So, here’s the rundown: Bandit pretends he was “born yesterday, ” meaning he knows absolutely nothing. He tries to eat shoes, treats phones like percussion instruments, and generally wreaks adorable havoc. My kind of chaos.

But this isn’t just slapstick for the sake of laughs. It’s Bandit’s genius at work. By acting clueless, he hands the reins to his kids. Suddenly, they’re the experts. They’re teaching him, leading him, and (let’s be honest) loving every second of it.

I mean, who knew pretending you have the IQ of a potato for a day could be peak parenting?

Curiosity: The Thing Kids Have and Adults Forget

Kids are walking question machines. Yael once asked me why the moon doesn’t fall down. I’m still not sure if I gave her an actual answer or just mumbled something about gravity. But Born Yesterday? It slaps us awake and says, “Hey, remember curiosity? That thing you had before life buried you in emails and meetings?”

Bandit’s whole shtick is forcing himself to see the world the way his kids do, with wide-eyed wonder. And let’s be real: when was the last time you stared at your toaster and thought, “Who decided this was the best way to crisp bread?” Exactly.

The Leaf That Stopped Me in My Tracks

But the moment that really got me? That final scene where Bandit, after a day of joyful cluelessness, stops to stare at a leaf. Not just a glance, the man is mesmerized. Every vein, every shade of green, like he’s seeing it for the first time.

And yeah, it hit me. Hard.

Life moves fast. Between work at DoorLoop, side hustling with Zossoz , chasing two toddlers, and trying to keep up with every Miami Heat game, slowing down feels laughable. But that leaf moment? It’s Bluey whispering, “Hey, maybe stop scrolling Twitter for a sec and just… exist.”

Parenting Takeaways From My Favorite Cartoon Dogs

Curiosity Isn’t Just for Kids Yael and Diana are curious about everything. I mean, Diana’s currently fascinated by her own feet and climbing out of her high char (and giving mommy and daddy heart attacks). But Born Yesterday reminds me to be curious too. Ask questions. Look closer. Wonder more. And maybe fake confusion once in a while, your kids will love it.
Let Them Be the Boss (Sometimes) Bandit’s “I know nothing” bit isn’t just funny. It’s empowering. His kids get to teach him for once, and that’s huge. Next time Yael wants to explain why her stuffed bunny is actually a doctor, guess what? I’m all ears.
Laugh Your Way Through It Parenting is a contact sport. But humor? Humor is the ice pack. Whether it’s pretending you’ve never seen a fork or letting your toddler put stickers on your forehead during a Zoom call, laughter bonds us more than any parenting book ever will.

Not Just for Parents: Why Born Yesterday Is a Life Lesson

Bluey isn’t just for parents. What if we all approached life like Bandit did? Curious. Open. Ready to laugh at our own cluelessness. Imagine how much lighter things would feel if we stopped pretending to know it all.

And no, you don’t need to start gnawing on your sneakers. But maybe, just maybe, put down your phone and really look at something ordinary. You might be surprised.

A Miami Dad’s Takeaway

I watch Bluey because it’s brilliant. I rewatch Bluey because it makes me a better dad, and honestly, a better person. Born Yesterday is a masterclass in curiosity, humor, and slowing down. And if Bandit can find beauty in a single leaf, maybe we can too.

So, the next time your kid stops to stare at a leaf, join them. You might just see something you’ve never noticed before.

(And yes, I’ll admit it: I watched this episode without Yael. Twice.)

How Newer Businesses Can Tap into Nostalgia Branding and Win

Sat, 08 Feb 2025 19:32:21 GMT

Nostalgia Branding for Startups: How New Brands Can Use Retro Vibes to Win Customers

You ever see a kid these days rocking a Walkman or a windbreaker that looks straight out of Saved by the Bell? That’s nostalgia in action. And businesses, whether they’ve been around for 100 years or just got their LLC last week, can absolutely use it to their advantage.

If you’ve been following along, we’ve already covered how legacy brands like Fresca and Manischewitz refreshed their look by leaning into their roots. Then, we dove into the science behind nostalgia branding and why it works across generations, with some more great examples. Now, let’s get practical: how can you, a newer business, leverage nostalgia without a century-old brand history to fall back on?

Step 1: Move Beyond the Era, Focus on the Emotional Hook

By now, you probably already know which era makes sense for your audience (if not, check out our previous post where we break that down). But nostalgia isn’t just about the time period. It’s about the feeling you’re trying to evoke.

Ask yourself: What do you want your audience to feel when they interact with your brand? Is it the carefree joy of childhood summers? The rebellious spirit of late ‘90s alternative culture? The comforting, analog simplicity of pre-internet life?

Once you nail the emotion, it becomes much easier to craft a nostalgia-driven brand experience that doesn’t feel like a gimmick. Your visuals, messaging, and even the way you interact with your customers should all reinforce that feeling.

Step 2: Build a Nostalgic Universe, Not Just a Product

The best nostalgia-driven brands don’t just sell a product. They create a world that feels like a time capsule. This means incorporating nostalgia into every aspect of your brand, from your packaging to your social media voice to the way you engage with customers.

Packaging & Presentation: If you’re selling a physical product, how it looks and feels matters. Think about how Polaroid cameras don’t just take pictures; they let people relive the thrill of instant prints. Even if your product is digital, you can bring in nostalgic design elements, Spotify’s retro “cassette tape” playlist covers are a great example.
Brand Voice & Messaging: Your marketing should reflect the era’s tone and quirks. If you’re leaning into ‘90s nostalgia, use casual, playful language with plenty of pop culture references. If it’s ‘80s nostalgia, go for something more over-the-top and neon-soaked.
Community & Engagement: Nostalgia thrives on shared experiences. Encourage customers to share their own throwback memories, create UGC (user-generated content) challenges, or host in-person/virtual events that recreate iconic cultural moments from your chosen era.

Step 3: Create Experiences That Feel Like a Throwback

Nostalgia branding isn’t just about looking the part. It’s about creating experiences that tap into those emotional memories.

Limited-Edition Throwbacks: Even new brands can drop a “vintage” version of a product, think retro packaging, classic flavors, or even a ‘90s-inspired website layout.
Old-School Marketing: Instead of just running Facebook ads, experiment with tactics like physical zines, posters, or even mail-in offers (yep, like the ones from the back of comic books).
Retail/Online Experiences: Brands like Urban Outfitters thrive on turning their stores into Gen Z time machines, selling Polaroid cameras, vinyl, and ‘90s band tees alongside modern products.

Step 4: Lean into Pop Culture (Carefully)

Pop culture references are a goldmine for nostalgia branding, but they come with a caveat. You can’t just slap a “Only ‘90s Kids Remember” sticker on something and call it a day. It needs to feel authentic.

A great example? Netflix’s Stranger Things . The show doesn’t just drop random ‘80s references. It lives in the era. The neon arcades, the mix tapes, the BMX bikes, even the wardrobe. It all taps into the feeling of 1980s suburban adventure films. More importantly, the series uses nostalgia to enhance the story, not as a crutch. That’s why it resonates.

The branding around Stranger Things takes it even further. Netflix has partnered with brands like Coca-Cola (bringing back “New Coke” for a limited run), Lego (with a full-scale Upside Down set), and even Baskin-Robbins (turning an actual store into “Scoops Ahoy, ” straight out of the show). Each collab makes sense because it feels natural, not forced.

On the flip side, try-hard nostalgia can backfire. Just because you slap an old-school font on something or throw in an ‘80s synth soundtrack doesn’t mean people will buy in. Audiences can tell when a brand is forcing it (looking at you, every “radical ‘80s” ad campaign that misses the mark). If you’re going to use nostalgia, make sure it’s woven into the experience , not just an afterthought.

Step 5: Keep It Fresh, Not Stale

The best nostalgia branding remixes the past instead of just replicating it. Look at how modern brands do it:

Casetify (a phone case brand) nails nostalgia by releasing designs that look like old iPods, VHS tapes, and Game Boys, but they’re still functional, modern cases.
Glossier taps into nostalgic beauty trends (sheer gloss, lip balm pots) while maintaining a clean, updated aesthetic.
Liquid Death sells canned water with a brand identity that looks straight out of a ‘90s metal band’s merch booth. Nostalgic? Yes. But also fresh and completely unique.

Final Thoughts: The Future of Nostalgia Branding

Newer businesses might not have a decades-old history, but they can borrow from the past to build an emotional connection. The trick? Doing it with authenticity, strategy, and a little bit of self-awareness.

As we move forward, expect brands to go even deeper into digital nostalgia, resurrecting old-school website aesthetics, pixel art, and even clunky, low-res interfaces as part of their branding. (Brace yourself: MySpace-inspired designs are probably making a comeback.)

So, if you’re building a brand from the ground up, don’t let history hold you back. Play with the past, remix it for today, and create something that feels familiar, even if it’s brand new.

And hey, if you need help figuring out which piece of nostalgia fits your brand, you know where to find me. I’ll be over here listening to Prince and partying like it’s 1999.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Nostalgia Branding: Why Yesterday’s Vibes Are Today’s Marketing Gold

Wed, 05 Feb 2025 18:46:35 GMT

Nostalgia branding isn’t just about looking back. It’s about making people feel something.

You know that feeling when you hear the Windows XP startup sound or see the old Pizza Hut logo and, for a second, you’re transported back to simpler times? That’s nostalgia kicking in, and in the world of branding, it’s a goldmine.

If my last post got you thinking about Fresca and Manischewitz’s rebrands, buckle up, because nostalgia branding is more than just a marketing trick. It’s an emotional play that taps into something primal: our deep, almost subconscious longing for the past. And smart brands? They’re cashing in on it in a big way.

Nostalgia: The Marketing Superpower You Didn’t Know You Needed

Nostalgia isn’t just a warm, fuzzy feeling. It’s science. Psychologists have found that nostalgia activates parts of the brain associated with comfort and belonging. It’s a coping mechanism. Studies show that nostalgia makes people feel more connected, optimistic, and even willing to spend more money (because what’s a little retail therapy when you’re chasing childhood memories?).

Brands have caught on. In a world where consumers are drowning in endless choices, the ones that make us feel something stand out. That’s where nostalgia branding comes in.

It works because:

It creates emotional security : In uncertain times, we gravitate toward things that feel familiar. That’s why legacy brands often lean into their heritage during economic downturns or cultural shifts.
It builds instant trust. If you already associate a brand with good memories, you don’t have to be convinced to like it. You already do.
It creates an emotional connection. People don’t just buy products; they buy feelings. Nostalgia lets brands sell experiences wrapped in sentimentality.
It cuts through the noise. In an era of endless digital distractions, a familiar visual or sound can grab attention faster than any algorithm ever could.
It Strengthens Brand Loyalty : When a brand reminds you of “the good old days, ” you’re more likely to trust it. That’s why Pepsi brought back its ‘90s logo and why Nintendo keeps re-releasing classic games.

The Best Nostalgia Rebrands: The Old Made New Again

Fresca and Manischewitz nailed their rebrands because they leaned into nostalgia without getting stuck in the past. But they’re not alone, some of the best brand refreshes in recent years have mastered this delicate balance.

Case Study: The Miami Heat’s Vice Campaign, A Nostalgia Masterclass

A stellar example of immersive nostalgia branding? The Miami Heat’s Vice campaign .

Back in 2018, the Heat introduced their “Vice” uniforms, drawing inspiration from Miami Vice, the iconic 1980s TV show that cemented the city’s neon-soaked, Art Deco aesthetic in pop culture. Instead of simply rolling out a new jersey design and calling it a day, they went all in , turning this into a fully immersive experience.

✅ The Look: The Vice jerseys featured neon pink, electric blue, and a retro-inspired typeface that screamed 80s South Beach. The design was a nostalgic nod to Miami’s nightlife and pop culture history.

✅ The Court: The team didn’t just stop at uniforms. They redesigned their entire court to match the Vice theme, swapping out the traditional red-and-black for neon colors that made it feel like a scene straight out of a synthwave music video.

✅ The Merch: The Vice aesthetic extended to every piece of Heat gear imaginable, hats, hoodies, even car decals. The branding was so strong, people who weren’t even Heat fans wanted in on the look.

✅ The Social & Digital Experience: The Heat revamped their entire social media branding to align with the Vice theme, posting vintage-styled promotional content that felt like it came straight from an old VHS tape.

✅ The Result: The Vice jerseys became the best-selling City Edition uniforms in NBA history , racking up over $25 million in sales. More importantly, they transformed the Miami Heat’s branding, suddenly, they weren’t just a basketball team; they were a cultural phenomenon.

The Power of a Nostalgic Universe

What made the Vice campaign so successful ?

They didn’t just lean on nostalgia as a gimmick. They created a fully immersive world that blended the best of the past with the energy of the present. It wasn’t just a jersey drop; it was a movement.

This is what the best nostalgia-driven brands get right. They go beyond referencing an era and instead recreate its essence in a way that feels fresh, exciting, and emotionally resonant.

Bringing It All Together: How to Craft a Nostalgic Universe

If you’re thinking about incorporating nostalgia into your brand, take notes from the Heat and other nostalgia powerhouses:

Go beyond visuals , Don’t just update a logo or color scheme. Consider the entire experience : the language, the sounds, the textures, and the emotions tied to the era you’re tapping into.

Immerse your audience , Use nostalgia to create a world , not just a campaign. Whether it’s packaging, digital branding, or even in-person experiences, consistency is key.

Balance the past and present , The best nostalgia branding doesn’t feel outdated. It feels like a remixed classic. Keep the heart of what made something iconic while evolving it for today’s audience.

Make it feel authentic , Consumers can tell when nostalgia is forced. The best nostalgic brands are the ones that respect their roots while making people genuinely excited about the future.

The Future Is… The Past?

If the Miami Heat’s Vice campaign, Pepsi’s throwback logo, and Burger King’s rebrand tell us anything, it’s that nostalgia isn’t just about looking back. It’s about creating something timeless .

In an era of uncertainty, brands that tap into nostalgia can offer something rare: comfort, trust, and a connection to something bigger than the present moment .

But here’s the trick, it only works if it feels real . Slapping a vintage design on a product nobody cares about won’t save a struggling brand. The magic happens when nostalgia is woven into a brand’s DNA in a way that feels fresh and relevant.

Looking ahead, expect to see:

AI-driven nostalgia , where brands use consumer data to deliver hyper-personalized throwback experiences.

More multisensory nostalgia , with brands leaning into sounds, scents, and textures to trigger emotional memories.

Retro-futurism , blending old-school aesthetics with cutting-edge technology (think Polaroid cameras re-emerging in the Instagram era).

At the end of the day, nostalgia branding works because it isn’t just about selling a product. It’s about selling a feeling. And if brands can make people feel something? That’s when the magic happens.

So, what’s your favorite nostalgia-driven rebrand or product comeback? Let me know. I’ll be over here playing Super Mario Bros. and feeling just the right amount of sentimental.

Pepsi: Turning Back Time

Pepsi’s recent rebrand brought back its 1980s-90s era bold, simple logo, proving once again that sometimes, the future looks a lot like the past. The sleek, high-contrast design feels nostalgic and forward-thinking, because no one really loved that weird lowercase logo they’d been using since the late ‘00s.

Why it works:

It taps into the golden era of Pepsi dominance (aka, Michael Jackson commercials and soda-fueled pop culture).
The black contrast in the logo subtly aligns with their push into energy drinks and sugar-free options.
It makes Gen X and millennials feel something, and Gen Z, ironically, loves a good retro aesthetic.

The Art of Doing Nostalgia Right

Nostalgia branding isn’t just about slapping an old logo on a can and calling it a day. It has to be done with intention. Here’s how brands can do it right:

1. Choose the Right Era to Tap Into

Not all nostalgia is created equal. The key is understanding which generation you’re targeting, because what feels nostalgic to a millennial might mean absolutely nothing to a baby boomer.

Gen Z (born 1997-2012)

Nostalgia triggers: Y2K aesthetics, flip phones, MySpace-era web design, early YouTube, Juicy Couture, and anything Paris Hilton & Nicole Richie-related.
How to use it: Bold, slightly chaotic designs, chunky fonts, and digital throwbacks. Basically, if it looks like it belongs on an old-school GeoCities website, they’re into it.

Millennials (born 1981-1996)

Nostalgia triggers: The golden age of Nickelodeon, AIM, Tamagotchis, Lisa Frank, Blockbuster nights, and the sound of a dial-up modem struggling to connect.
How to use it: Pastel colors, VHS-style filters, and a mix of late-90s/early-2000s pop culture references. “Only 90s kids will remember…” still works like a charm.

Gen X (born 1965-1980)

Nostalgia triggers: Walkmans, MTV when it actually played music, arcade culture, neon lights, and Trapper Keepers.
How to use it: Bright, retro-futuristic elements with a touch of rebellion. If it looks like it could be on a 1980s video game console, it’ll hit home.

Baby Boomers (born 1946-1964)

Nostalgia triggers: Classic cars, jukeboxes, drive-in movies, The Beatles, and the golden age of advertising (think vintage Coca-Cola and early McDonald’s).
How to use it: Clean, simple designs with a mid-century modern touch. Nostalgic branding for boomers is less about chaos and more about timeless elegance. If it looks like it belongs in a Mad Men ad, it’ll resonate.

The Silent Generation (born 1928-1945)

Nostalgia triggers: Radio dramas, department store Christmas windows, milkmen, post-war optimism, and the rise of TV as a new medium.
How to use it: Classic serif fonts, sepia tones, and an emphasis on craftsmanship and “the way things used to be.” This generation values trust and tradition above all, so throwback branding should lean into heritage and authenticity.

Now we’ve got every generation covered, from TikTok-loving Gen Z to the folks who still remember when getting a TV was a big deal.

If you’re branding for an older audience, the key is subtlety . They don’t necessarily want to feel “old.” Instead of making nostalgia the whole identity, brands can highlight longevity, craftsmanship, and legacy.

For younger audiences? The louder, the better. They love ironic, in-your-face nostalgia, whether it’s Y2K bling or 80s synthwave aesthetics.

And if a brand wants to hit that sweet spot across multiple generations? Blend elements from different eras. (Looking at you, Pepsi.)

2. Blend Old and New

The best nostalgia-driven branding isn’t a carbon copy of the past. It’s a remix. Take elements that people remember fondly and modernize them.

Keep the essence of what made the old brand memorable.
Update fonts, colors, and layouts to feel fresh and relevant.
Make sure it aligns with today’s audience expectations (hello, digital-first design).

3. Use the Right Touchpoints

Where you showcase nostalgia matters. If you’re targeting millennials and Gen Z, Instagram and TikTok are your best friends. If your audience is more traditional, TV ads or in-store displays might work better.

Retro-inspired packaging grabs attention in the grocery aisle.
Nostalgic ads featuring throwback jingles hit home on YouTube and streaming services.
Social media campaigns using old-school references (think: “Only 90s kids will remember…”) drive engagement.

The Nostalgia Blueprint: Creating a Universe, Not Just a Brand

One-off nostalgia plays, like slapping an old-school logo on a can, can be effective, but the real magic happens when a brand builds an entire world around nostalgia . The goal isn’t just to make people remember. It’s to make them feel like they’ve stepped into a time machine.

Burger King: A Retro Comeback

In 2021, Burger King ditched its glossy, overly modern logo and brought back a version that looked straight out of the ‘70s. The new logo? A cleaner, more vibrant take on the old-school bun and lettering. It screams “flame-grilled goodness” and makes you feel like a kid in the backseat of your parents’ car, unwrapping a Whopper with both hands.

Why it works:

The throwback look reminds longtime fans of when BK was at its peak.
The modern tweaks keep it fresh, not outdated.
The new typography and colors feel warmer, friendlier, and, most importantly, authentic.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

The Art of the Rebrand: How Fresca and Manischewitz Nailed It

Mon, 03 Feb 2025 19:48:04 GMT

How Two Classic Brands Reinvented Themselves Without Losing Their Soul

Rebrands are a delicate art, like seasoning a recipe, it’s all about balance. Too subtle, and no one notices; too drastic, and you risk alienating your base. Two recent examples of brands absolutely nailing this balancing act are Fresca and Manischewitz. Let’s dive into how these iconic names updated their looks to reflect their essence, lean into nostalgia, and stand out where it counts.

Manischewitz: Heritage Meets Modern Pop

Now let’s talk Manischewitz. It’s the brand we all know from our Bubbe’s house, sitting proudly on the Seder table or next to some truly underrated kosher wine. But by 2022, it was due for a refresh, something that honored its roots while catching the eye of younger shoppers (you know, the ones snapping TikToks in the kosher aisle).

What’s New?

Manischewitz embraced its history with a look that’s both nostalgic and fresh:

Rich jewel tones like emerald green and burgundy now dominate the packaging, making it pop against the beige-and-brown monotony of most kosher products.
The typography? Vintage-inspired, complete with Hebrew lettering that nods to its roots. Archival illustrations, like wheat sheaves, add a touch of old-school authenticity.
Functional updates like bold gluten-free labels and clear kosher certification bring modern clarity to the mix.

Why It Works:

In the kosher section, where tradition reigns supreme, Manischewitz leans in hard. The new design practically screams, “We’ve been doing this for 135 years, and we’re just getting started.” The colors and heritage-driven elements ensure it’s the first thing you notice, whether you’re prepping for Passover or just craving matzo ball soup.

Harnessing Nostalgia:

Nostalgia isn’t just a trend; it’s a feeling. Manischewitz’s rebrand leans into the warmth of familiarity with its vintage-inspired design elements. Whether it’s the archival illustrations or the jewel tones that feel like they belong on your grandmother’s dining table, the rebrand stirs up memories while inviting new ones. It’s a bridge between generations.

What These Rebrands Teach Us

Both Fresca and Manischewitz are textbook examples of how to rebrand effectively by understanding three key factors:

Essence: They know who they are. Fresca is playful but premium. Manischewitz is heritage-driven but accessible.
Audience: They get who they’re talking to. Fresca courts millennials and Gen Z with mixology and zero-calorie promises. Manischewitz speaks to both traditionalists and young, savvy consumers.
Nostalgia: This might be the most powerful tool in their arsenal. Fresca’s nod to its retro roots gives older fans a sense of continuity, while Manischewitz’s heritage-driven elements celebrate its legacy without feeling dated. Nostalgia isn’t about looking back; it’s about connecting the past to the present.

In a world where every brand fights for a split-second of attention, these two remind us that the best strategy is staying true to your roots while embracing what’s next. If you’re not inspired to rethink your own branding strategy, well, maybe grab a Fresca and ponder it.

So, what’s your favorite rebrand lately? Let me know, because this is the kind of design talk I live for.

But wait. There’s more. If you think nostalgia is just a side effect of flipping through old Polaroids, think again. It’s the new secret weapon in branding, and we’re only scratching the surface. Up next, we’ll break down why brands are raiding their archives, how familiarity breeds success (not contempt), and why the future of marketing might just be a well-polished throwback. Stay tuned.

Fresca: From Sprite’s Little Cousin to Soda Aisle Royalty

We all remember Fresca, right? It used to live in the soda aisle, quietly blending in with lime-green branding that felt…familiar. A little too familiar. Honestly, if you mistook it for a Sprite knockoff, no judgment. But, Fresca decided to step out of the shadows and claim its own crown.

What’s New?

Fresca’s sleek rebrand is a masterclass in premiumization (yes, that’s a word now). The new cans sport a muted gray background with a chic gradient of citrus hues, think orange, pink, and yellow. It’s classy, minimal, and makes you feel like you’re reaching for something meant for craft cocktails, not just a midweek lunch.

The logo? Out with bubbly lettering, in with streamlined sans-serif font and a touch of metallic gold. It whispers “luxury” without shouting.
Bonus points for sustainability: Fresca now comes in 100% recycled aluminum cans. Mother Earth approves.

Why It Works:

The soda aisle is a loud, chaotic party of neon labels and sugar-fueled vibes. Fresca’s muted, elegant design is like a jazz quartet in the middle of a rock concert. It stands out precisely because it doesn’t scream for attention. Plus, Coca-Cola’s push to tie Fresca into mixology culture makes it clear: this isn’t just soda; it’s an experience.

A Nod to Nostalgia:

While the design feels modern, Fresca’s rebrand also subtly nods to its 1960s origins. The streamlined logo and restrained color palette echo the clean, minimalist aesthetics of mid-century design. It’s a wink to its roots, making the brand feel familiar yet fresh.

Both of these work for the same reason. They didn’t throw out what people already loved, they just stopped making it look like an apology. That’s the real job in a rebrand, and it’s the part most companies skip on their way to picking a new font. If you’re staring down one and can’t tell which parts are worth keeping, that’s the conversation I have all day at Zossoz .

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Never Again: Reflections on International Holocaust Remembrance Day as a Jewish Father

Mon, 27 Jan 2025 14:00:03 GMT

Reflecting on My Great Aunt’s Story, March of the Living, and Raising Two Jewish Daughters in a World That Must Never Forget

On October 7th, the world shifted in a way that hit too close to home. As the tide of antisemitism has risen sharply since then, I’ve found myself grappling with fears I never thought I’d face in 2025. But today, on International Holocaust Remembrance Day, those fears feel heavier. This day is a stark reminder of the horrors that hatred and silence allowed to unfold just decades ago. For me, it’s also a moment to reflect on what it means to raise two beautiful Jewish daughters, Yael and Diana, in a world that feels increasingly hostile to who we are.

Growing up, I was fortunate. My family’s story, while scarred, gave me a profound sense of identity. My grandparents and great-grandparents had the foresight (or sheer luck) to leave Europe before the Holocaust. They rebuilt their lives in Cuba and Uruguay, far from the atrocities that consumed millions. But even in the relative safety of our lineage, one story lingered like a shadow: the survival of my great-aunt by marriage, Tia Aviva. Her story, and the scars it left on her, shaped my understanding of resilience, remembrance, and the obligation to ensure “Never Again” is more than just a promise.

A Legacy of Fear and Resilience

Tia Aviva’s story is one I’ll never forget. Tia Aviva wasn’t related to me by blood, but through marriage. Her story, though, feels like it’s etched into my DNA. As a nine-year-old, she was thrust into a nightmare when her father, my great-grandfather by marriage, was taken to Auschwitz and murdered. Shortly after, her mother made an impossible choice: to send her and her younger sister into hiding, alone, to evade the Gestapo. Her childhood was stolen by fear and deprivation, spent in constant terror that a knock on the door would mean death. At the war’s end, her life was forever altered, haunted by what she had seen and lost.

Despite her resilience, she never fully escaped those years. Her story, though, wasn’t shared freely. Tia rarely spoke of those years when I was young. But by the time her grandchildren, my cousins, and I reached adulthood, she began to share. She even provided her testimony to Steven Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation , preserving her story for generations to come.

Her bravery in doing so is as much a testament to her resilience as her survival itself. Hearing it, understanding it, shaped me. It made me vow never to let those lessons fade, not for myself, and not for my children.

Never Forget, Never Again

At 17, just shy of my 18th birthday, I went on March of the Living, a life-altering journey that solidified my commitment to remembrance. Walking the grounds of Auschwitz, the gas chambers felt like a tomb of silence, yet their walls screamed stories of unfathomable pain. I saw the marks, the scratches left by hands clawing for life in the face of death. Those marks haunt me. They are the silent screams of lives cut short, of futures erased. They’re also the loudest reminder of what’s at stake when hatred goes unchecked.

Walking those same paths, I realized that “Never Again” isn’t just a phrase. It’s a mission. It’s a responsibility we all carry to ensure the world remembers, even when it’s easier to forget. It’s a vow to educate, to speak out, and to shield our children from the darkness that tried to consume our ancestors.

The Rise of Antisemitism: A Modern Reckoning

Today, the spike in antisemitic rhetoric and violence is not just numbers in a report. It’s a chilling echo of the past. In the aftermath of October 7th, the vitriol spilled online, on campuses, and even in the streets has been relentless. As Jews, we’re asked to justify our existence and our right to safety, a demand no other people should have to meet. It’s exhausting and heartbreaking and, above all, terrifying.

How do I explain to my girls that, despite everything, we still face this hatred? How do I prepare them for a world that may demand they hide their Jewishness, just as my Tia Aviva had to?

Standing Strong, Teaching Strength

As parents, Mazi and I are determined to raise our girls with pride in their Jewish identity. Judaism, for us, is so much more than a religion. It’s a culture, a history, a legacy of resilience. We light the Shabbat candles with Yael, already teaching her the beauty of our traditions. One day, we’ll tell her why this light matters, that it’s a beacon against the darkness others have tried to impose on us.

It’s also why we speak out. Silence, as history has shown, is dangerous. The world needs to hear our stories, both the triumphs and the horrors, because forgetting is the first step toward repeating. Our heritage is not something to hide but something to celebrate. I share Tia Aviva’s story not for pity, but to remind us all of what’s at stake.

Carrying the Past Into the Future

Every scratch in those gas chamber walls, every word my Tia couldn’t say for decades, and every hateful comment online. They shape who I am and what I stand for. On International Holocaust Remembrance Day, their weight feels heavier, but so does their purpose. They fuel my resolve to fight for a better world, not just for my daughters, Yael and Diana, but for all of us. As Jews, we’ve been here before. And we’re still here.

I’m not naïve. The fight against antisemitism isn’t one we’ll win overnight. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. But as a proud Jew, a father, and a descendant of survivors, I know one thing: we don’t back down. My daughters will grow up knowing their history, not as a burden, but as their foundation. They’ll know that, despite the hatred and the darkness, the light of our people has endured through every attempt to extinguish it. And they will carry that light forward with pride.

Today, we honor the six million lives stolen in the Holocaust and reaffirm our vow: “Never Again.” The greatest act of defiance against hate is not just to remember but to live boldly, to thrive despite it all, and to teach the next generation to do the same. In this way, the legacy of resilience, hope, and humanity that defines us will endure, for my girls, and for all who come after them.

Miami Heat Brings Back Vice Jerseys: A Neon Love Letter to Miami and the Best Branding in the NBA

Fri, 17 Jan 2025 20:57:45 GMT

From Jimmy Butler’s return to the reintroduction of the iconic Vice jerseys, the Miami Heat remind us why they’re the boldest brand in basketball.

Let’s set the stage: Miami isn’t just where I live. It’s who I am. From the vibrant murals of Wynwood to the electric hum of South Beach, this city flows through everything I do. My personal brand ? It’s Miami, distilled. So, when the Miami Heat brought back their iconic Vice jerseys this week, like Jay-Z saying, “Allow me to reintroduce myself”, I wasn’t just excited; I was hyped. These jerseys don’t just represent the Heat; they represent us.

And honestly, this reintroduction couldn’t have come at a better time. With Jimmy Butler’s suspension finally behind us, his return to the team coinciding with the Vice comeback feels downright poetic. It’s as if the Heat are saying, “Drama? That’s behind us. Let’s get back to what makes us great.”

But before we dive into the brilliance of Vice, let’s address the… well, misstep that was the Culture jerseys.

The Culture Jersey: A Swing and a Miss

Every great comeback needs a low point to bounce back from, and this year’s Culture jersey was just that. Officially, it was described as follows:

“The Miami Heat 2024-25 City Edition Uniform delivers a powerful homage to the fierce spirit of Heat culture, encapsulated in a vivid ‘Blood Red’ base. Rooted in the franchise’s legacy of resilience, ambition, and championship glory, this new edition reflects Miami’s unwavering commitment to ‘Bleed Heat Red.’ With its striking design, it honors not only Pat Riley’s transformative leadership but also every historic moment that’s defined Heat basketball.”

Sounds good on paper, right? But in practice, it fell flat. The “Blood Red” base was more “middle school gym shirt” than “fierce Heat legacy.” It lacked the boldness and connection that made the Vice jerseys so iconic. Miami is a city of vibrance and flair, and this year’s Culture jersey didn’t deliver on either front. It was a safe play in a city that thrives on risks.

Thank goodness Vice is back to remind us what bold really looks like.

Vice Jerseys: A Masterclass in Identity

When the Vice jerseys first hit the scene, they didn’t just shake up the NBA. They electrified it. The neon pink and teal, combined with sleek black and white accents, weren’t just colors; they were emotions. Vice didn’t just say, “I’m with the Heat.” It said, “I’m part of Miami’s pulse.”

And let’s not overlook the font, which ties it all together. That retro lettering is a nod to the Heat’s original home at the Miami Arena. It’s a subtle but powerful connection to the franchise’s roots, back when Glen Rice was dropping buckets and Rony Seikaly was dominating the paint. It says, “We remember where we came from, but we’re still looking ahead.” That’s Miami in a nutshell, past, present, and future, all at once.

Timing Is Everything: Jimmy Butler and the Vice Comeback

The Vice jerseys’ return feels like a celebration of a fresh chapter for the team. With Jimmy Butler’s suspension and trade drama now behind us (fingers crossed), his return coinciding with this reintroduction feels almost too perfect. Jimmy, love him or not, embodies the Heat’s grit and flair. So to have him back in the lineup, just as Vice makes its triumphant return, is a reminder of what this team stands for: resilience, personality, and, let’s be honest, a little drama.

This moment feels like a reset, a way to put the recent turmoil in the rearview mirror and focus on the future. The Vice jerseys don’t just mark a design comeback; they’re a cultural comeback. They say, “We’re still Miami. We’re still here. And we’re still bold as hell.”

Vice Forever: Let’s Make It Permanent

Here’s the thing: the Vice jerseys shouldn’t just be a one-time comeback. They need to stay. The Heat don’t need to churn out a new City Edition jersey every year. They’ve already hit the pinnacle of what a city jersey can be. It’s not just about the colors (though, let’s be real, those colors are fire). It’s about how seamlessly the jerseys tie into Miami’s DNA. You can’t separate the Vice jerseys from the city they represent. That’s what sets them apart.

Rotate the designs, switch up the color palette, maybe add some new elements, but keep that neon heartbeat alive. Miami is a city of reinvention, but some things shouldn’t change. Vice isn’t just a jersey; it’s an identity. It’s Miami in fabric form, and no other team in the league can say that about their City Edition jerseys. (Sorry, Utah. Your skyline tributes are cute, but they’re no Vice.)

Now, the on-court product is a whole other rant (one I already went on in why the NBA has lost its edge ). But the jersey? The jersey is perfect.

Final Thoughts: Neon Dreams and Redemption

The Vice jerseys are more than basketball uniforms. They’re a cultural moment, a reminder of Miami’s boldness, and a celebration of everything that makes this city great. After the stumble that was the Culture jersey, Vice is here to say, “We’re back. And we’re better than ever.”

So, to the Miami Heat: thank you. Thank you for listening to your fans, for understanding what makes this city tick, and for bringing back the best jersey in the NBA. Let’s keep the Vice jerseys alive, because Miami deserves it. We deserve it.

And to Jimmy Butler: welcome back. Your timing couldn’t be better. Let’s make this season one to remember, because when the Heat are wearing Vice, anything feels possible.

Because in Miami, we don’t just play basketball. We make statements. And the Vice jerseys? They’re the loudest, proudest statement of them all.

Update, August 2026: Jimmy got traded to Golden State a few weeks after this published. I'm leaving the post exactly as it ran, welcome-back and all, because the Vice jerseys are still the best branding in the NBA and that part aged just fine.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Why the NBA Has Lost Its Edge: A Fan’s Brutally Honest Take

Tue, 14 Jan 2025 19:58:47 GMT

From three-point overload to softer gameplay and accessibility woes, here’s what’s killing basketball’s soul.

You know that friend who says, “I don’t watch the NBA anymore because it’s too woke”? Yeah, that guy? He’s wrong. The NBA isn’t losing viewers because players have opinions. It’s losing viewers because the game’s lost its bite. It’s gone soft, predictable, and hard to access. And for fans like me, who grew up on Heat-Knicks brawls and Pistons-level violence, that’s a tough pill to swallow.

Let’s break this down. Because it’s not one problem. It’s all the problems.

Remember When Basketball Was a Blood Sport?

Back in the day, the NBA was basically hockey without the ice. Watching the Heat and Knicks in the ’90s was like tuning into a street fight that just happened to involve a basketball. Alonzo Mourning and Larry Johnson weren’t afraid to throw down. Jeff Van Gundy? The man clung to Zo’s leg during a fight, and it’s still one of the greatest NBA moments of all time. That rivalry wasn’t just entertainment. It was a masterclass in why hate fuels sports.

And it wasn’t just them. The Pistons weren’t the “Bad Boys” because it sounded cool. They beat people up. Michael Jordan had to earn his championships by taking elbows to the ribs every time he drove the lane. The Celtics and Lakers? Those guys genuinely despised each other. Magic and Bird weren’t out here swapping jerseys and planning vacations; they were trying to end each other’s dynasties.

Fast forward to today, and what do we have? Guys high-fiving each other mid-game. Hugging after free throws. It’s like watching a bunch of coworkers at a team-building retreat. Where’s the fire? Where’s the grit?

The Three-Point Snoozefest

Let’s talk about the three-pointer. It used to be a weapon. Now it’s the whole damn arsenal. Steph Curry broke the game, and that was fun for a while. But now? Everyone’s out here shooting like they’re Steph, and spoiler alert: they’re not.

You’ve got teams throwing up 50 threes a game, and half of them barely graze the rim. The mid-range game? Dead. Post moves? Extinct. Watching a game now feels like you’re stuck in a time loop: dribble, kick out, shoot a three, repeat. It’s like the NBA forgot that variety is what made basketball exciting in the first place.

Look, I get it. Analytics say threes are the most efficient shot. But sports aren’t supposed to be a math problem. They’re supposed to make you feel something. And watching a team chuck bricks from 27 feet doesn’t exactly scream “edge-of-your-seat excitement.”

The Accessibility Dumpster Fire

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: how the hell are you even supposed to watch these games? Back in the day, you flipped on your TV, and boom. There’s the game. Now? It’s a nightmare.

You’ve got blackouts, streaming restrictions, and about 47 different subscription services you need to juggle. Oh, you live in Miami and want to watch the Heat? Sorry, you’re blacked out. But hey, here’s a nice highlight reel on Instagram. It’s like the NBA doesn’t want us to watch live games anymore.

Here’s an idea, Adam Silver: make it simple. Let fans watch any game, live, without jumping through hoops. Charge us a flat fee, and we’ll happily fork over the cash. Because right now, the NBA’s accessibility issues are driving people straight into the arms of TikTok highlights and YouTube recaps.

Players: Brand Ambassadors First, Superstars Second

Normally, I’d say people follow people, not brands. But in sports? It’s flipped. Fans are loyal to the team, the brand, not the player. Giants fans didn’t jump ship to the Eagles when Saquon left, and Heat fans didn’t follow Wade to Cleveland. Sure, players like LeBron transcend teams, but they’re the rare exceptions.

Most players are ambassadors for their team’s brand. And when they go rogue or toxic, like Jimmy Butler seems to be doing right now, fans turn on them. It’s not personal. It’s about the team. Players need to realize their loyalty is part of what fans buy into. Quit on the brand, and you’re quitting on the fans.

The NBA should remind players that contracts aren’t just about talent. They’re about representing the team. Fans will stay Heat fans, with or without Jimmy. The question is: does he want to be part of the legacy, or the guy who walked away?

Trash Talk: A Lost Art

What’s also missing today is the attitude. Michael Jordan wasn’t just the GOAT because of his skills. He was a psychological assassin. He’d tell you exactly how he was going to destroy you, then do it with a smile. Larry Bird once walked into a locker room before a three-point contest and asked who was coming in second. Reggie Miller? He had Spike Lee so rattled during a playoff game that Spike was basically a spectator for the rest of the series.

Now? Everyone’s friends. Don’t get me wrong, camaraderie is great, but can we keep it for the offseason? I don’t want to see opponents laughing and hugging during a timeout. I want fire. I want drama. I want to believe these guys actually care about beating each other.

The “Woke” Excuse is Lazy

Let’s clear something up: the NBA didn’t lose viewers because it “went woke.” The league’s always been socially conscious. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was advocating for civil rights when most people were still figuring out how to spell “activism.” Players having opinions isn’t new, and it’s not what’s driving fans away.

The problem isn’t that players speak out. It’s that the product on the court isn’t compelling enough to keep fans locked in. If the games were as intense and unpredictable as they were in the ’90s, no one would care what LeBron tweets. They’d be too busy arguing about whether his team could get past the Celtics.

How to Fix the NBA

Alright, enough ranting. Here’s how we fix this mess:

Bring Back Physicality Let defenders play defense again. Nobody wants a foul every 12 seconds. Let the game get rough. Let players feel the stakes.
Tone Down the Threes Reward diverse offensive play. Make the mid-range and post-game valuable again. Balance is exciting; monotony isn’t.
Fix Accessibility Kill the blackouts. One streaming service for every game, live, anywhere. No exceptions.
Hold Players Accountable If you sign a contract, honor it. The NBA needs to step up and enforce this. Don’t let stars quit on their teams halfway through. Fans deserve more.
Foster Real Rivalries The buddy-buddy act is cute, but sports thrive on conflict. Trash talk, on-court scuffles, and pride in crushing your opponent, those are the ingredients that make fans invest. Encourage that. Rivalries aren’t born out of handshakes; they’re forged in battles.
Protect the Product Players like Jimmy Butler can’t be allowed to coast through games while angling for a trade. The league needs to implement stricter rules or penalties for this kind of behavior. Maybe it’s reducing guaranteed money when players publicly quit on their teams. Maybe it’s tightening trade rules. Whatever it is, it needs to make players think twice before bailing out on their contracts.

Update for 2026-27: So, Did Adam Silver Read This?

I wrote this in January 2025. The 2026-27 season tips off Tuesday, October 20 , so here’s a quick check on what’s changed since my rant. More than I expected, honestly.

First, the obvious one. Jimmy got traded to Golden State a few weeks after this post went up. I said fans would stay Heat fans, with or without Jimmy. (Still here. Still yelling at the TV.)

The national TV mess got a little simpler. The league’s new 11-year deals with Disney, NBCUniversal, and Amazon kicked in last season and run through 2035-36. So nationally, games live on ESPN and ABC, NBC and Peacock, and Prime Video. That’s three homes instead of a scavenger hunt. It’s also still three apps. Opening night is an NBC and Peacock tripleheader, with the Knicks raising their 2025-26 championship banner at the Garden. (Pat Riley’s old team with a ring. I’m fine. Totally fine.)

Miami basically fixed the blackout problem. With FanDuel Sports Network out of the NBA business, the Heat moved their local games to WPLG Local 10 for 2026-27 . Every Heat game that isn’t on national TV airs free, over the air, and there’s a free Local 10 streaming option for South Floridians who can’t get the channel. Same Eric Reid on the call. No regional sports network bill.

Remember “Kill the blackouts” up there in my fix-it list? For Heat fans at home, this is the closest thing yet. Free, local, and easy to find is the same instinct that makes the Vice jerseys the best branding in the NBA , meeting Miami where it already lives. (It’s a one-season deal for now, so let’s hold the parade.)

The league finally went after tanking. In May, the Board of Governors voted 29-1 for a new “3-2-1” draft lottery . It expands the lottery to 16 teams, flattens the odds, and takes a ball away from the three worst teams , starting with the 2027 draft. That’s my “Protect the Product” point, aimed at front offices instead of players. I’ll take it.

The 65-game rule is still a mess. Players need 65 games to be eligible for MVP and the other big awards, which was supposed to cut down on load management. Last spring the players’ union called for the rule to be reformed or scrapped . Then the league let Luka Dončić and Cade Cunningham in under an “extraordinary circumstances” exception, while Anthony Edwards lost his appeal . Even Minnesota’s coach, Chris Finch, publicly wondered what the point of a rule is when the exceptions keep winning.

Look, I want the stars on the floor. That’s the whole reason the rule exists. But a rule that needs an arbitrator to explain it isn’t bringing anybody back to the couch.

Some things no rule can touch. Nobody legislated the hugging, the threes are still flying, and the rivalries are still up to the players.

The league fixed what it can fix on paper. The edge is still on the guys wearing the jerseys.

The Soul of the NBA is on the Line

As a die-hard Miami Heat fan , I miss when basketball felt like a war. I miss when players fought for every possession like their lives depended on it. The NBA today feels like it’s coasting on its past glory, hoping flashy dunks and viral highlights will keep fans engaged. But here’s the thing: they won’t.

Fans want to feel something, tension, excitement, maybe even a little fear. They want rivalries, drama, and unpredictability. That’s what made the NBA a cultural phenomenon. And if the league can’t find a way to bring that back, the slide in viewership is only going to get worse.

So, Adam Silver, if you’re reading this (and let’s be real, you should be), it’s time to act. The NBA doesn’t need to reinvent itself. It needs to remember what made it great in the first place. And for the love of all that’s holy, let me watch my Heat games without needing a tech support hotline.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Celebrating 93 Years of Wisdom: Lessons from My Grandmother, Buba Luba

Sun, 12 Jan 2025 16:30:00 GMT

From Uruguay to the U.S. My Grandmother’s Journey Taught Me the Power of Resilience, Forgiveness, and Lifelong Learning

Today, my family gathers to celebrate the incredible 93 years of my grandmother, Buba Luba. Born in Montevideo, Uruguay, in 1932, she has lived a life filled with challenges, triumphs, and lessons that resonate across generations. As I reflect on her journey, I’m struck by how her story intertwines with my own and how her values have shaped the family she worked so hard to build.

A Bold Leap for a Better Life

In late 1964, my grandparents, Buba Luba and my Zaide Ori, left their home in Uruguay and immigrated to the United States. They came with a dream for a better life for their young family, bringing my mom, Frida, who was just four years old at the time and my Buba many months pregnant. Soon after arriving, my aunt was born in New York, completing their little unit.

Starting over in a new country is daunting for anyone, but imagine doing so without speaking the language, far away from your whole support system and with limited resources. Yet, my grandparents worked tirelessly to provide opportunities for their daughters. They prioritized education, sending both to private Jewish day school while sacrificing luxuries for themselves. New clothes and fancy meals were secondary to ensuring their children had access to a strong Jewish education and a foundation for success.

This selflessness is one of many traits that defined my grandmother. It’s a reminder that success isn’t measured by what you have but by what you’re willing to give for the people you love.

Language as a Bridge

When Buba Luba arrived in the U.S. she didn’t speak a word of English. But in true Buba fashion, she approached the challenge head-on. Her “classroom” was her living room. She learned the language by watching TV and reading the newspaper.

Her English was never perfect, but it didn’t need to be. What mattered was her determination to meet people where they were. Whether she was at the grocery store, chatting with neighbors, or navigating parent-teacher conferences, she always defaulted to English in public. She understood that communication is about connection, not perfection, a lesson I carry with me in both my personal and professional life.

The Smartest Person I Know

Here’s the thing about Buba: she wasn’t just resourceful; she was brilliant. My dad often says she’s the smartest person he’s ever met, and I couldn’t agree more. (Sorry, Mom and JB) Her intelligence wasn’t just about academics. It was her ability to adapt, to solve problems, and to see the world with an insightful clarity that always left me in awe.

She taught me that learning never stops. Whether it was mastering English as an adult or navigating the complexities of life in a new country, she proved that curiosity and a hunger for knowledge can carry you through anything.

A Heart Full of Forgiveness

Life wasn’t always kind to Buba Luba. Later in life, my Zaide Ori made choices that broke her heart. He left her for someone else, a betrayal that would devastate most people. But Buba didn’t let anger or resentment define her. To this day, she still speaks of him with love, focusing on the happy moments they shared rather than the pain he caused.

Her ability to forgive taught me one of the most profound lessons of my life: bitterness is a heavy burden, but forgiveness can set you free. She chose to hold onto the love they had instead of the hurt, showing me that there’s always a reason to look for the light, even in the darkest moments.

A Creative Bloom Later in Life

After my grandfather left, Buba faced yet another challenge: she battled cancer. During this difficult time, she turned to poetry and painting as outlets for her emotions and a way to rediscover joy. These creative pursuits became her solace, allowing her to express feelings she didn’t always have the words for.

Her art wasn’t just beautiful. It was deeply personal, a reflection of her resilience and her ability to find beauty even in hardship. Watching her pour herself into poetry and painting reminded me that it’s never too late to try something new and that creativity can be a powerful source of healing.

Memories That Last a Lifetime

Today, as I sit with her in the memory care wing of her retirement community, celebrating her 93rd birthday, I’m hit with a flood of memories that feel as vivid as yesterday. I think back to the summer I lived with her when I was 15. I had this big plan to sharpen my Spanish skills and, naturally, insisted she speak to me only in Spanish. Buba, ever the good sport, humored me, grinning through my awkward grammar and correcting me when I needed it (which was a lot).

When she moved to Miami later in life, she became the beating heart of our family Shabbat dinners. Her love for hosting brought us all together around the table. That small table was always full, of people, of food, of stories. There was this warmth in her smile as she welcomed us, a feeling like everything else could wait because, for now, we were all together.

Now, as a father myself, I think about those Shabbat dinners often. I try to recreate that sense of connection and joy for my own kids. Buba wasn’t just serving meals; she was building traditions, ones that would carry on through me and, hopefully, through my daughters. Her laughter, her love, her stubborn insistence that everyone take seconds (even thirds), those Fridays weren’t just dinners. They were a celebration of everything good in life, and Buba was always at the center.

Lessons to Carry Forward

The greatest gifts Buba has given me are her values. She taught me the importance of family, the power of forgiveness, and the beauty of lifelong learning. She showed me that success isn’t about what you achieve for yourself but what you give to others.

Her resilience, her grace, and her ability to find joy in the little things continue to inspire me every day. As I look at her today, 93 years young, I’m reminded that life isn’t always easy, but it’s always worth it.

Happy birthday, Buba. Thank you for the memories, the lessons, and the love. You’ve given us all more than we could ever repay, and we’re so lucky to have you in our lives.

What I Learned About Strategy from Fantasy Football

Tue, 07 Jan 2025 19:56:21 GMT

Winning Insights for Both the Field and the Boardroom

I’ll admit it: I take fantasy football way too seriously. It’s not just a game to me; it’s an obsession. But here’s the thing, fantasy football is more than just a Sunday pastime. It’s an unexpected masterclass in strategy, decision-making, and leadership. As someone who splits time between parenting my two little daughters, and strategizing for businesses, I’ve come to see that the lessons I’ve learned managing my fantasy league roster apply just as much to business as they do to crushing my cousin’s hopes of making the playoffs.

Let me break it down. Here’s how fantasy football taught me a thing or two about strategy, and how you can use those lessons whether you’re managing a team on the field or in the boardroom.

1. Play the Long Game

In fantasy football, the goal isn’t to win Week 1. It’s to win the whole season. Sometimes, that means making short-term sacrifices, like benching a star player who’s nursing an injury or picking up a player on waivers with potential for breakout weeks down the line.

Business is no different. Too many leaders chase quarterly numbers at the expense of long-term growth. It’s tempting to go for the quick win, but real strategy means thinking about sustainability. Whether you’re investing in branding or developing a new product, always ask yourself: Will this decision help me win the championship, or just this week?

2. Know Your Stats, But Trust Your Gut

Fantasy football managers live and die by the numbers. Target shares, yards per carry, red-zone opportunities. You name it. But stats only tell part of the story. You also have to factor in intangibles: Is the player in a slump? Are they motivated to prove themselves?

In business, data is invaluable, but it’s not the whole picture. As a branding consultant, I’ve seen companies overanalyze and miss opportunities because they were waiting for the “perfect” data set. Trust your instincts, especially when it comes to things like company culture or customer relationships, those aren’t always quantifiable, but they’re crucial to success.

3. Be Ruthless When Necessary

One of the hardest parts of fantasy football is cutting a player you were so sure would be a star. Maybe you drafted them high, or maybe you just like them. But if they aren’t delivering, you’ve got to make the tough call.

The same goes for leadership. Sometimes, you have to let go of an underperforming product line, pivot away from a beloved but failing strategy, or (gulp) make hard personnel decisions. Sentimentality can cost you the championship, whether it’s in football or business.

4. Adapt, Adapt, Adapt

Remember when everyone thought the Dolphins’ Tua Tagovailoa was just a middling quarterback, and now he’s leading one of the most explosive offenses in the league? (Okay, maybe that’s just my Miami pride talking.) The lesson? Things change quickly, and you’ve got to stay flexible.

In business, your “star player” might not be delivering anymore, or the market might shift. When I started our websites offering at DoorLoop , I had to pivot my approach several times to meet client needs and stay competitive. Success belongs to those who can adapt.

5. Collaboration Wins Championships

Even in fantasy football, you can’t do it all alone. Whether you’re reading expert rankings or trading players with other managers, collaboration is key. No one wins in a vacuum.

As Director of Custom Websites at DoorLoop, I’ve seen firsthand how collaboration between teams, design, development, marketing, creates a better product. The best leaders know when to lean on others’ expertise. Remember: even Michael Jordan had Scottie Pippen.

The Takeaway: Strategy Is Universal

Whether you’re chasing a championship ring or a corner office, strategy is about making smart decisions, staying adaptable, and playing to win, not just for today, but for the long haul. And honestly? It’s about having fun along the way. Because what’s the point of all this if you can’t enjoy it?

So next time you’re sweating over a fourth-quarter trade or a Q4 business decision, think about what your fantasy team would do. And if you need advice, just let me know. I’m happy to share my roster wisdom.

And hey, if you’ve got a league of your own, feel free to invite me. Just know I play to win.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

The Eighth Night, Illuminating What Truly Matters

Wed, 01 Jan 2025 20:11:31 GMT

From Five Places to One Heart: Reflections on Family, Tradition, and the Eighth Light of Chanukah

Tonight, we light the eighth and final candle of Chanukah. There’s something deeply poetic about this moment, an end that feels more like a beginning. As I strike the match, I’m not just lighting a wick; I’m illuminating a week’s worth of memories, reflections, and, frankly, a little chaos.

Lighting Candles in FivePlaces, and Creating a Lifetime of Memories

This year’s Chanukah has been nothing short of an adventure. We lit our menorah in five places: the first in our home, nights two, three, six, and seven at my in-laws’ house, and nights four and five in surrounded by family and friends celebrating my sister-in-law Debi’s wedding to Paul and finally tonight at my Mom’s house back in Miami with more family. Each lighting was a snapshot of connection, a reminder that traditions adapt to the rhythms of our lives. Carrying its own energy, a mix of laughter, exhaustion, love, and, occasionally, a toddler demanding to hold the shamash (that’s still a no, Yael).

It’s funny, Chanukah is a holiday steeped in tradition, yet this year our traditions traveled. And I think that’s the beauty of it. Whether we were surrounded by wedding joy, cozying up at my in-laws’, or finally lighting at home with some semblance of calm, the menorah grounded us. It didn’t matter where we were or how chaotic the day had been; those candles brought us back to what’s important.

A Family That Feels Like a Miracle

If you’ve been reading along this week, you know family means everything to me. And this trip was another reminder of just how lucky we are. My daughters, Yael and Diana, are blessed with aunts, uncles, and grandparents who cherish them. Watching my sisters, Gabby, Ariel, and Dani, as well as my sisters-in-law Debi and Sari, and their partners Paul and Steve, take time with Yael and Diana and shower them with love was magical it filled me with gratitude. Each one found their own way to make the girls feel like the center of the universe at different moments, even amidst wedding madness showing them the power of family love. Whether it was a stolen moment playing games or just holding them during a meltdown (thanks, Steve!), they gave my daughters something priceless: love that stretches across generations.

We missed Elan, Gabby’s husband, who couldn’t join us because of work, but even in his absence, his presence was felt. This family? It’s a miracle. Not the oil-burning-eight-days kind, but the kind where every person steps up, pours in love, and makes you feel like you belong.

A Hug That Was the Highlight of My Year

Of all the moments this week, the one I’ll hold onto forever wasn’t flashy or loud. It was quiet. In the basement of my in-laws’ house, Yael was playing while I laid on the bed nearby. I got up to leave, and she stopped me. “Lay back down, Daddy, ” she said. I did. She climbed up, gave me the kind of hug that rewires your soul, and said, “You’re the best daddy in the world.”

I don’t know if I am the best dad (I mean, Bandit from Bluey is a high bar) but in that moment, I felt like it. Everything else melted away. Work, stress, the to-do list that never ends. It all disappeared. That moment was a miracle, uncomplicated, pure, and so profoundly grounding. All that mattered was her tiny arms and the way she looked at me with absolute love.

The Grind vs. What Actually Matters

Even during this family-focused trip, work wasn’t far behind. It’s no secret I’ve got a lot on my plate. I work hard, probably harder than I should. I still found myself answering customer questions and putting out small fires. This time though, I tried something different: instead of letting work steal the spotlight, I kept it as background noise. But here’s what I’m learning: the grind only matters if it’s building something worth grinding for. If you can’t pause to enjoy your family, your kids, the quiet moments, what’s the point?

Chanukah is about finding light in the darkness, and this week reminded me that the brightest light isn’t in the candles; it’s in the people you light them with.

A Menorah That Tells a Story

Tonight, as we light the final candle, I’m struck by a special connection. The menorah we’re using is my parents’ first menorah, the one they lit in their early days together, long before Gabby and I entered the picture. It’s weathered decades of holidays, moves, and, no doubt, a lot of wax drippings. To me, it’s a symbol of resilience, love, and the way traditions carry forward. My daughters don’t know it yet, but they’re part of a story that started long before them, and one that I hope they’ll carry on long after me.

The Eighth Light

Tonight, as the menorah glows in its full brilliance, I’m reminded of the true lesson of Chanukah: even in the darkest moments, light finds a way. For me, that light is my family. It’s the way Yael adores Diana, how I hope they’ll always be this close. It’s the love of a family that shows up for each other, whether at a wedding, a holiday, or just a random weekday. It makes me realize that the best legacy we leave isn’t in business plans or client wins. It’s in the relationships we build, the love we nurture, and the quiet, glowing moments we create together.

Chanukah reminds us that even the smallest spark can illuminate the darkest nights. And tonight, on the eighth night, my heart is full knowing that my family, spread across homes, hotels, and hugs, is the brightest light in my life.

Chag Sameach, from our family to yours.

From Oil to Inspiration: Carrying Chanukkah’s Light All Year

Tue, 31 Dec 2024 17:57:04 GMT

How Chanukkah’s Lessons of Resilience, Community, and Light Can Inspire Us Every Day

Chanukkah is like a warm hug in the middle of winter, a celebration of resilience, light, and the miraculous. It has this beautiful way of sneaking into our lives just when the days feel the shortest, both literally and sometimes emotionally. But let’s face it, after the dreidels are packed up and the last latke is eaten, how many of us go back to the grind and let that magical flicker fade? Here’s a thought: what if we didn’t? What if we carried that tiny-but-mighty light with us all year?

Let’s explore how the lessons of Chanukkah can inspire us every single day, long after the candles are gone.

Miracles, Big and Small

Think about the oil. It wasn’t just a cool party trick that it lasted eight days. It was a reminder that even when you think you’re running on empty, there’s more inside you than you realize.

Parenting two little beautiful monsters has taught me this firsthand. Some days, the tank feels dry, but then you hear your toddler’s laugh or get through bedtime without chaos, and you’re reminded: small miracles are everywhere.

Carry that mindset forward. Look for the little wins. Found parking on South Beach? Miracle. Made it through a Monday without a meltdown? Absolute miracle. Miracles don’t have to be grandiose; they just have to remind you to keep going.

Strength in Community

Chanukkah isn’t a solo act. Sure, lighting a menorah alone is possible, but let’s be real: it’s way better surrounded by family and friends. Whether it’s trading stories or maybe (just maybe) arguing over whose latkes are the best, fundamentally it’s about leaning into the people who lift you up and doing the same for them.

For me, that strength comes from my family and community. Celebrating holidays with loved ones, staying connected to my Jewish identity, and being part of something bigger than myself. It’s all fuel for my soul. And it’s not just about receiving; it’s about showing up for others, too. Find your people, invest in them, and let them invest in you. That’s where the real light shines.

Resilience Is in Our DNA

The Maccabees? Total rockstars. They didn’t look at impossible odds and back down. They stood up, fought for their beliefs, and kept going. That kind of resilience isn’t just a historical footnote. It’s a blueprint. Life throws curveballs (hello, parenting during sleep regressions), but like the Maccabees, you push forward because you believe in your purpose.

For me, my ‘why’ is simple: helping people. There’s nothing I love more than watching someone grow, whether it’s lending a hand, sharing advice, or just being there to cheer someone on. Helping others find their spark ignites my own.

So, what’s your ‘why’? What fuels you to wake up every day and face whatever comes your way? Find it, hold onto it, and let it guide you like the flame of the menorah.

The Power of Light

The menorah’s light isn’t just about illuminating a space; it’s about inspiring those around you. It’s a reminder that even one small flame can create warmth and hope in the darkest of times.

For me, being that light means showing up fully, whether as a father, a husband, or a friend to those who need support. It’s about leaving the world just a little brighter than I found it. And you know what? That’s something we can all do. Whether it’s through kindness, encouragement, or simply being present when it matters most, your light has the power to change someone’s day, or even their life. Your light has ripple effects.

Keeping the Flame Alive

Chanukkah may only last eight days, but its lessons are timeless. It teaches us to appreciate the little miracles, lean into our communities, live with purpose, and share our light with others.

So, as you pack away the menorah, don’t let its light fade. Take it with you. Carry its warmth and its lessons into the rest of your year. Because, like the oil that wasn’t supposed to last, your light is more powerful than you think.

Now go out there and light up the world.

How the Dreidel Reflects the Wins, Losses, and Surprises of Life’s Journey

Mon, 30 Dec 2024 17:11:12 GMT

How the Dreidel Reflects the Wins, Losses, and Surprises of Life’s Journey

So, let’s talk about those dreidels. Yeah, those little spinning tops that are the unsung heroes of Hanukkah gatherings. You might think they’re just for kids or a fun way to win some chocolate coins, but the humble dreidel has a thing or two to teach us about life. Stick with me here. I promise this isn’t just an excuse to sneak in Miami sports references (though you know they’re coming).

The Dreidel’s Four Sides of Life

The dreidel’s four sides, Nun, Gimel, Hei, and Shin, each tell a story. They’re not just game moves; they’re metaphors for life’s twists and turns:

Nun : Nothing happens. You spin, and the dreidel lands on Nun. No win, no loss. It’s like those workdays where nothing goes wrong, but nothing exciting happens either. The inbox stays manageable, the coffee’s lukewarm, and you clock out right on time. Boring? Sure. But hey, sometimes boring is exactly what you need.
Gimel : You take it all! The dream scenario, right? The moments when your hard work pays off and you’re basking in the glory of success. These are the days you live for, the promotion lands, the project’s a hit, or the Heat shock everyone in Game 7 against Boston (still riding that high). And when it happens, you’ve gotta savor every second. Pure Gimel energy.
Hei : You get a little. A modest win. Progress, but nothing earth-shattering. Maybe you finish a tough project or the Dolphins manage to stay in wild-card contention with one week left in the season. It’s not Gimel, but you’re moving forward, and that’s worth celebrating.
Shin : You give. Ouch. The dreaded Shin. Life humbles you, you give something back. Whether it’s a tough quarter at work or one of the Marlins’ infamous fire sales, watching your favorite players traded away just as things seemed to be getting good. Shin stings, but it’s also humbling, and sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.

Spinning Through Work and Family

Life, like the dreidel, is a mix of luck, strategy, and knowing when to lean in or step back. Think about your workday. You spin your metaphorical dreidel with every decision. Some days, you’re a Gimel machine, closing deals or nailing presentations. Other days, it’s Shin all the way. Deadlines pile up, projects go sideways, and your only consolation is, “Well, at least I tried.”

Parenting? If you’ve got kids, you know every day feels like a spin. Yael and Diana keep me spinning my metaphorical dreidel constantly. Will the bedtime routine land on Nun (calm, predictable), Hei (some wins, some crying), or full-blown Shin (chaos incarnate)? Spoiler: Shin happens a lot more than Gimel.

Miami Sports: A Dreidel Drama

Miami sports are basically a live-action dreidel game. The Dolphins? Right now, they’re in the hunt for the wild card with just one week left in the season, a solid Hei. It’s not the Gimel we all dream of, but it’s progress. There’s hope, and that’s what keeps us spinning.

The Heat, on the other hand, are the perpetual Hei team. They’re always contending, always in the mix, whether it’s scraping through the playoffs or surprising everyone with a deep run. Sure, they’ve had their Gimel moments (hello, 2020 & 2023 Finals runs), but even in quieter seasons, they’re solid, never far from making some noise.

And then there are the Marlins. Their World Series wins in 1997 and 2003? Pure Gimel. Straight-up jackpot moments that shocked the baseball world and put Miami on the map. But, oh, those fire sales. Trading away the stars who made it all possible? That’s Shin in its most brutal form, giving everything back just as you thought you’d made it. It stings every time, but hey, it’s part of what makes being a Miami fan such a wild ride.

The Spin You Can Control

Here’s the thing: you don’t get to decide how the dreidel lands, but you do get to spin it. And that’s what makes life exciting, that’s the magic. Whether it’s showing up for work, chasing a passion project like Kosher Couture, or just trying to be a great dad, the act of spinning, of trying, is what counts.

So, when life feels random or unfair, remember the dreidel. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, but what matters is that you keep showing up, keep spinning, and keep believing. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll land on Gimel when it matters most.

Final Thoughts

Life is like a dreidel: unpredictable, humbling, and full of small, meaningful wins. Whether you’re navigating a Miami Heat playoff run, chasing your career ambitions, or just trying to get the kids to eat their veggies, remember that every spin matters. So keep spinning, keep showing up, and don’t forget. There’s always chocolate gelt at the end.

Welcome to the sixth night of Chanukah and the sixth post in my eight-part Chanukah blog series! Over the past few nights, we’ve explored the deeper meanings of this festival of lights, from how the menorah guides us in “Lighting the Way: What the Menorah Means to Me, ” to discovering why every business needs a shamash in “Leading Without Burning Out.” We’ve talked marketing lessons, modern miracles, and even finding light in the grind of daily life. Tonight, as the flames grow brighter, we’re spinning the dreidel and diving into how this simple game reflects life’s twists, turns, and lessons. Let’s see where it lands!

Chanukah’s Greatest Lesson: Finding Light in the Darkness of the Daily Grind

Sun, 29 Dec 2024 20:53:12 GMT

How Chanukah teaches us that small wins can light the path to our greatest successes.

You ever feel like life is just one giant daily grind? Wake up, hustle, hit some deadlines, change a few diapers (I see you, parents of toddlers), and then… repeat. It’s so easy to feel like you’re spinning your wheels, looking for that spark of something bigger. Something brighter. Something that makes all the small, monotonous wins actually mean something.

And here’s where Chanukah, yes, the festival of lights, shines brighter than just menorahs and latkes. It’s not just a holiday about miracles; it’s a masterclass in resilience, showing us how the smallest victories illuminate the biggest successes.

Small Wins, Big Shine

Chanukah is a story of defiance and grit. The Maccabees, a tiny band of Jewish rebels, stood up against the mighty Greek empire. Imagine the odds: a few outnumbered, exhausted fighters squaring up against an empire with more resources than Jeff Bezos. And yet, they fought. Why? Because they believed. Because they refused to let darkness win.

The miracle we celebrate isn’t just about oil that lasted eight nights. It’s about showing up every day and finding light where others see none. It’s about seeing the importance of small wins when big victories feel impossible.

Now, bring that idea into your life. Whether it’s slogging through back-to-back meetings at work, tackling a tricky client project, or, let’s be real, surviving bedtime with a toddler, those tiny moments of progress matter. You don’t build success with flashy “miracles”; you build it one small, determined win at a time.

The Daily Darkness We All Face

Here’s the thing: life will test you. Sometimes the darkness is a tough quarter at work, where goals feel unattainable and the pressure’s unbearable. Sometimes it’s more personal, like battling through the exhaustion of parenting or supporting loved ones when things get tough.

And let’s not kid ourselves, if you’re anything like me, you’ve probably sat there some days, coffee in hand, staring at your to-do list and wondering, “Is it all worth it?” Spoiler alert: it is. Because every light you kindle, every moment you refuse to quit, is part of something bigger.

Fueling Your Fire

The Maccabees weren’t superheroes. They weren’t unbeatable. They were just people who lit a flame, one flame, that sparked a revolution. That single light represents the effort, the persistence, and the belief it takes to push through hard days.

It reminds us that success is often about consistency . Think about it. Every small success you rack up is another flame on your personal menorah. Did you finally lock in that new client? Did your team hit a deadline? Did you manage to juggle work, family, and still find 30 minutes for yourself? Those are your flames.

For me, whether it’s launching a tricky new customer’s website at DoorLoop , or just watching my daughters, light up when they see the menorah glow. It’s those small victories that keep me going.

Turning Darkness into Drive

Here’s the real magic of Chanukah: it’s not just about celebrating miracles but creating them. The Maccabees weren’t guaranteed success. They created it with grit and faith. Your own big breakthroughs will come the same way.

So, if you’re feeling stuck in the grind, remember this:

Small wins matter. They add up, even when they don’t feel earth-shattering.
Darkness isn’t permanent. Light always shines through, especially when you fight for it.
Show up and believe. Miracles happen because people refuse to quit.

The darkness of the daily grind? It’s not unbeatable. It’s just waiting for you to find your light, and keep it burning.

Light Your Flame

Chanukah isn’t just a Jewish holiday; it’s a universal reminder that resilience fuels success. It’s proof that the small moments, those tiny flames, matter more than we think.

So, whether you’re crushing it at work, building your dream on the side, or just surviving the day-to-day grind, celebrate your progress. Keep lighting your menorah, one flame at a time.

Because those small sparks? They’re everything.

And who knows, maybe one day, when you look back, you’ll realize that those little victories were the ones that lit up your biggest successes.

Chanukah, Balagan, and the Missing Dress: A Modern Miracle

Sat, 28 Dec 2024 16:08:14 GMT

How a Missing Dress and a Family Balagan Turned into the Perfect Chanukah Story

Picture this: a house packed with bagels, Myriam’s world-famous arrollado, and the kind of joyful chaos only a big Jewish family can create. Now throw in a missing wedding dress, a stressed-out father-in-law trying to shush the world while davening, and a whirlwind of events leading up to the 4th night of Chanukah. If you’re imagining a scene equal parts stressful and hilarious, you’ve got the vibe. Sounds like the setup for a holiday miracle, right?

The Gate-side Panic

We were at the gate in Fort Lauderdale, balancing kids, a car seat, and snacks like a traveling circus ready to board our flight to New Jersey for my sister-in-law Debi’s wedding. That’s when it hit us: Mazi’s carefully chosen dress was still hanging neatly in our closet at home. My first instinct? Leave the airport, race home, and somehow make it back in time. But reality, and TSA security protocols, quickly brought me back to my senses. Cue the frantic brainstorming session. Thankfully, my cousin David was flying up the next day. One quick call, and he became our knight in shining armor (or at least our knight in a car driving 45 minutes to our apartment). Disaster averted, but man, those few minutes were tense.

Balagan at the Kuba House

The next morning, we found ourselves in the middle of a classic Kuba family balagan. What’s does balagan mean, you ask? It’s a Hebrew word for a mess, but it’s more than that. It’s chaos with heart, a glorious mix of disorder and life that somehow feels like home.

The house was bursting with energy: Argentinian cousins chatting loudly in rapid-fire Spanish, kids running around like caffeinated squirrels, and Diana grabbing at anything she could get her hands on (usually the most breakable thing in the room). My father-in-law Yossi, wrapping tefillin and trying to daven Shacharit, was anything but calm. He was shushing everyone like a librarian during finals week. Meanwhile, my mother-in-law Myriam was in her element, making sure no one left the kitchen without a bagel or a piece of her world-famous arrollado. Because in her universe, food isn’t just nourishment. It’s how you say “I love you.” It was pure balagan, a joyful chaos that only makes sense if you’ve ever been part of a big Jewish family.

Celebrating the Balagan

This all happened just two days ago, leading up to tonight, the 4th night of Chanukah and another big family wedding. And honestly? It feels like the perfect metaphor for the holiday.

Chanukah isn’t just about the neat, pretty glow of the menorah or perfectly crisp latkes. It’s about resilience amidst chaos and the joy that comes from embracing the messiness of life. The story of Chanukah celebrates the Maccabees who found light and hope in the middle of turmoil. And isn’t that what family is all about? No matter how messy or loud or stressful, it’s in those chaotic moments that we find the love, laughter, and meaning that carry us through.

So, as we light the candles tonight, I’m thinking about how much beauty there is in the balagan. Whether it’s scrambling to find a wedding dress, juggling cousins speaking different languages, or simply being grateful for the people who step up when you need them most, it’s all part of the story. Life isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, making the most of what you’ve got, and celebrating the little miracles that happen along the way.

Here’s to a 4th night of Chanukah filled with light, love, and maybe just a little bit of balagan. Because honestly? That’s where the best stories come from.

The Chanukah Marketing Lesson: How to Keep Your Audience Engaged for 8 Straight Days

Fri, 27 Dec 2024 16:19:52 GMT

What brands can learn from a holiday built on consistency, surprise, and tradition

Chanukah is a masterclass in engagement. Think about it: eight days, eight nights, and people are just as excited for the last candle as they were for the first. That’s no small feat. Now, imagine applying that same energy to your brand. What would it look like if your audience stayed hooked, not just for a single campaign but over the long haul?

The magic of Chanukah lies in its blend of consistency, surprise, and tradition , all wrapped up in a sense of community. These aren’t just nice holiday vibes. They’re lessons your brand can use to connect with your audience on a deeper level.

Let’s break it down into five actionable marketing lessons.

1. Consistency Builds Trust

Picture this: night three of Chanukah rolls around, and someone “forgets” to light the menorah. Not only does it throw off the rhythm, but it feels wrong. Why? Because traditions work when they’re dependable.

Your brand needs the same kind of consistency. Whether it’s a regular posting schedule, predictable product launches, or annual campaigns, showing up on time builds trust.

Think Starbucks’ holiday cups. Every year, they hit stores just as the weather turns frosty. It’s not about coffee anymore. It’s about signaling the start of the holiday season. People look forward to it because they know it’s coming.

✅ Marketing Takeaway: Set a schedule your audience can depend on, then stick to it. Whether you’re launching a podcast, a newsletter, or seasonal content, the key is showing up like clockwork.

2. Inject Surprise to Keep Things Fresh

Consistency keeps people tuned in, but surprise keeps them excited. Chanukah nails this with its tradition of nightly gifts. Sure, you know something’s coming, but you don’t know what. It’s that mix of anticipation and novelty that keeps things engaging.

Oreo is a prime example. Every so often, they release a “mystery flavor, ” sparking conversations (and debates) across social media. People scramble to guess the flavor, and in doing so, they create buzz for Oreo without Oreo having to lift a finger. That’s the power of surprise.

✅ Marketing Takeaway: Surprise your audience with unexpected content, products, or experiences.

Drop a limited-edition product.
Announce a flash sale with no warning.
Send your most loyal customers a surprise gift.

Anticipation plus novelty equals engagement.

3. Tradition Creates Connection

Tradition isn’t just comforting. It’s unifying. On Chanukah, the rituals, the menorah, the dreidel, the latkes, aren’t just actions. They’re shared experiences that connect people to their community and history.

Great brands create their own traditions. Take Apple’s annual keynote events. Every September, you know they’re going to unveil the latest iPhone. The format is almost ritualistic: sleek videos, Tim Cook’s calm delivery, and a “one more thing” moment. It’s predictable, but it works because it fosters a sense of belonging.

✅ Marketing Takeaway: Establish brand rituals. These could be:

A yearly launch event
A signature holiday campaign
Recurring themes in your messaging

Traditions create a sense of reliability and connection that audiences latch onto.

4. Simplify Your Message

Chanukah’s story is simple: it’s about miracles, resilience, and eight nights of light. No one’s confused about the “why” of the holiday. Your marketing should follow suit.

Too often, brands overcomplicate their campaigns with cluttered visuals and ambiguous slogans. The result? Audiences tune out.

Take Nike’s “Just Do It.” Three words, decades of staying power. Why? Because it’s clear and universally understood.

✅ Marketing Takeaway: Streamline your messaging. Whether it’s a campaign tagline, social media post, or product description, clarity beats cleverness every time.

5. Foster Community Engagement

Chanukah isn’t a solo act. It’s celebrated with family, friends, and community. The songs, the food, the games. They’re all designed to bring people together.

Brands that build communities, not just customer bases, win big. Take Peloton , for example. It’s not just about bikes or classes; it’s about a shared culture of high-fives, leaderboards, and collective achievement. That sense of community makes their customers feel like they’re part of something bigger.

✅ Marketing Takeaway: Create spaces where your audience can connect, not just with you, but with each other.

Start a Facebook group or online forum.
Launch campaigns that encourage user-generated content.
Host events (in-person or virtual) to bring your audience together.

People don’t just want to consume. They want to belong.

The Wrap-Up

So what’s the takeaway here? Whether you’re celebrating Chanukah or crafting your next marketing campaign, the recipe for engagement isn’t magic. It’s consistency , sprinkled with surprise, rooted in tradition, and wrapped up in a sense of community.

The brands that win understand this, they take a cue from the Festival of Lights: show up, keep it fresh, and make people feel like they’re part of something special. That’s how you build engagement that lasts, not just for eight days, but all year long.

Now go light up your marketing like a menorah, one brilliant day at a time.

P.S. If you’re struggling to figure out how to keep your brand’s audience engaged for eight minutes, let alone eight days, I’m here to help. DM me or drop me an email, let’s strategize. And maybe share some latkes.

Why Every Business Needs a ‘Shamash’: Leading Without Burning Out

Thu, 26 Dec 2024 17:00:00 GMT

How the humble shamash candle offers a timeless lesson for leaders: empower others to shine without losing your own spark.

Nowadays burnout seems like a badge of honor, like if you’re not running on empty, you’re not trying hard enough. But, let me introduce you to a simple yet profound concept that comes straight out of Jewish tradition: the shamash. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s the “helper candle” of the menorah during Hanukkah. The shamash’s job? To light up all the other candles while keeping its own flame burning strong.

It’s such a simple metaphor, but man, it hits hard: leaders are like shamash candles. The best ones lift up those around them, teams, employees, even peers, without snuffing out their own light. But too many leaders take on every task, every problem, like it’s all on them. That’s not noble; that’s how sparks fade, exhaustion sets in, and businesses flatline.

So, how do you light the way for others without burning yourself out? Let’s talk about it.

The Shamash Effect: Sharing the Flame

Picture this: a menorah filled with glowing candles, each one flickering bright because the shamash did its job. The shamash doesn’t burn out; it shares its flame. That’s the shamash effect: great leaders empower others to shine.

In business, this looks like:

Delegating meaningful work (not just busywork).
Coaching team members instead of micromanaging them.
Trusting your people to take ownership of outcomes.

Over the years, I’ve been blessed to work with some incredible leaders who understood the power of the shamash effect. These were people who didn’t just lead. They empowered their teams to grow, innovate, and shine in their own right. They trusted their people to take ownership of the process, and as a result, the work didn’t just get done; it thrived.

When you see that kind of leadership in action, it’s inspiring. It reminds you that the best leaders don’t hoard the spotlight. They create opportunities for others to step up and lead, sparking a cycle of growth that benefits everyone.

Burnout Isn’t a Badge of Honor

I’ll say it louder for the people in the back: burnout doesn’t make you a better leader. You’re not more committed or heroic because you pull all-nighters or answer Slack messages at midnight (some people who know me are probably saying “pot meet kettle).

Here’s the truth: burned-out leaders set a dangerous tone for their teams. You’re teaching your employees that work comes before well-being, and no one wins in that equation. Not you. Not your team. Not the business.

Leading like a shamash means recognizing your flame matters too . When you prioritize your energy, your team learns to do the same.

Some practical ways to avoid burning out include:

Setting boundaries, real ones. Even for yourself. (Yes, your team is watching.)
Practicing real delegation, letting go of the need for control.
Taking time to recharge creatively and personally. You know, so you don’t turn into a grumpy sleep-deprived zombie.

For me, it’s about showing my girls that their dad can be passionate about work and be present at bedtime. Because what’s the point of all this hustle if you’re too fried to enjoy the good stuff? There’s no badge of honor in being too exhausted to be there for life’s little moments.

Your Spark Inspires Others, Don’t Let It Go Out

Let me ask you something: who inspires you more? The leader who’s dragging themselves into every meeting like it’s a chore, or the one who’s lit up with passion and purpose?

People follow sparks, not burnout. Take some of the best leaders you know, maybe in business, politics, sports. What do they all have in common? They’re lit up. They have energy. And they share that energy with the people around them.

I call this “operating from your spark.” It means showing up every day with intention, curiosity, and a sense of purpose, whether you’re leading a team of three or three hundred.

Here’s how you can reignite your own spark:

Reconnect to your “why.” Why are you leading in the first place? (Hint: It’s probably more than just for the paycheck.)
Celebrate progress, not just results. Even small wins keep morale high and sparks alive.
Find joy in the process. Leading a team doesn’t always have to feel like heavy lifting.

Be the Helper Candle, Not the Hero

So many leaders fall into the “hero” trap. They think they need to solve everything, fix everything, be everything. That’s exhausting, and it robs your team of the chance to step up and grow.

The shamash, though? It’s a helper, not a hero. Its purpose is to light others up.

In practice, this means:

Giving your team tools and resources to succeed and then getting out of the way.
Asking questions instead of providing all the answers.
Celebrate your team’s wins, not just your own.

You don’t have to be the brightest candle in the room. You just need to help everyone else shine.

Let’s Glow

At its core, being a shamash leader is about sustainability. It’s about creating a culture where everyone, including you, can thrive without teetering on the edge of burnout.

So next time you’re staring down a leadership challenge, ask yourself: are you lighting up your team while keeping your own flame alive? Or are you burning yourself out trying to do it all?

Because the truth is, when you empower others, the whole team glows. And when everyone’s light comes together, the glow is unstoppable.

Now It’s Your Turn

Got tips for leading without burnout? I’d love to hear them, comment below or let’s chat over on LinkedIn . After all, leadership’s a team sport.

Day 1: Lighting the Way: What the Menorah Means to Me

Wed, 25 Dec 2024 17:00:00 GMT

One Menorah, Many Stories: A Hanukkah Journey Through Light and Legacy

This year, I’m celebrating Hanukkah by reflecting on the light it brings, not just to tradition and family, but to broader themes like leadership and marketing. Each night, I’ll share how the lessons of Hanukkah illuminate these topics, one candle at a time. Together, we’ll explore how its timeless wisdom shines in unexpected places.

When the first candle flickers to life on the menorah, I’m not just celebrating Hanukkah. I’m reliving a story. It’s a story that spans generations, weaving together the threads of tradition, family, and resilience. And for me, this story is anchored in a very special menorah: my parents’ menorah.

The Menorah That Tells My Story

This menorah isn’t just a ceremonial piece; it’s a bridge. My parents got it when they were newlyweds, and it stood proudly in our home through every Hanukkah of my childhood. Today, it stands in my home, connecting my past with my present, and my girls’ future. Sure, I own a handful of menorahs, some whimsical, some modern, some just bought because they caught my eye, but none hold a candle (pun intended) to this one. It’s more than metal and wax; it’s memory and meaning.

Finding Light in the Shadows

As a child of divorce, I’ve learned that family can feel fractured at times. Divorce has a way of complicating the memories. It’s easy to let the hard moments overshadow the joy. But this menorah, shining bright, reminds me to hold onto the good stuff. And you know what? There was a lot of good stuff. I remember the laughter, the warmth, the sense of belonging that my parents cultivated during those Hanukkahs when the menorah cast its golden light across the room.

Here’s the thing: even after the divorce, my parents somehow managed to create something beautiful. They became friends, best friends, really. So much so that my younger sisters see my mom as their Tía Frida. It’s rare, I know, and I count my blessings every day that my girls, Yael and Diana, get to grow up in a family where love transcends the labels of “step” or “ex.”

Hanukkah as a Living Legacy

Hanukkah is about more than fried latkes and chocolate gelt (though let’s be real, those are pretty great perks). It’s about resilience and miracles, the kind of miracles that happen when people come together despite the odds. Lighting this menorah reminds me of my parents’ ability to do just that. It also inspires me to carry forward the love and light for my own daughters.

When Yael’s tiny hands reach for the shamash , I feel the weight of what I’m passing on to her. Not just the ritual, but the story. This menorah isn’t just mine; it’s hers and Diana’s, and someday, their children’s. It’s a living legacy of family, faith, and the beauty of holding onto hope.

A Light That Never Dims

Hanukkah literally means “dedication.” And that’s what this menorah symbolizes for me: dedication to remembering where I’ve come from, cherishing what I have now, and believing in the light we’re all capable of bringing into the world. No matter how many menorahs I own, this one will always hold a special place on my shelf, and in my heart.

So when the candles flicker this year, I’ll think of my parents lighting this menorah decades ago. I’ll think of Yael and Diana growing up surrounded by family who loves them fiercely. And I’ll feel grateful, not just for the eight nights of Hanukkah, but for the everyday miracles that light up our lives.

L’chag sameach! May your menorah shine as brightly in your home as this one does in mine.

Latkes, Oil, and Lessons in Imperfection: Why the Messiest Traditions Are the Best

Mon, 23 Dec 2024 15:00:00 GMT

From Zaide’s Kitchen to My Heart: How Chanukah’s Greasy, Golden Latkes Teach Us to Find Joy in the Mess.

In the Oberlender family, the smell of frying oil signals not just the arrival of Chanukah but also a kind of joyful chaos that’s hard to replicate. At the heart of this yearly ritual is my Zaide Julio, whose latkes are legendary. You think I’m kidding? His latkes aren’t just crispy, golden wonders; they’re the kind of food that makes you close your eyes and believe, for one fleeting moment, that everything in the world is just right.

Now, if you think I’m exaggerating when I say my Zaide makes the best latkes in the world, let me stop you right there. His latkes aren’t just food. They’re an experience. Crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, with just the right amount of grease that makes your cardiologist raise an eyebrow. And yes, I love them so much that early in my relationship with Mazi, I did what any smart man would do: I sent her to apprentice under him.

A Two-Year Potato Internship

Mazi wasn’t just a casual observer in Zaide’s kitchen. For two Chanukahs she apprenticed under his watchful eye. Latke perfection, as it turns out, doesn’t come easily. My Zaide taught her the secrets: how to get the shreds of potato just thin enough, how to balance the onion without overpowering the flavor, and the all-important lesson of flipping at just the right moment.

Was it a little over-the-top to enroll my wife-to-be in a latke boot camp? Maybe. But let’s face it, if you’ve ever tasted a latke so good it feels like a spiritual experience, you’d understand. These days, her latkes rival Zaide’s, and honestly, it’s like winning the lottery every Chanukah.

The Beauty of the Mess

But here’s the thing about making latkes. It’s messy. Oil splatters, potato bits end up in places you didn’t think potatoes could reach, and everyone has their own (loud) opinion about what counts as “golden brown.” Growing up, I used to think this chaos was a flaw. Why couldn’t we be like those Instagram-perfect families with spotless kitchens and curated holiday traditions?

But now, as a dad to two incredible (and delightfully messy) daughters, Yael and Diana, I get it. Life isn’t neat. Parenting definitely isn’t. It’s about embracing the imperfections, just like making latkes. You’re going to burn a few, spill some oil, and probably argue with someone about whether applesauce, sour cream, sugar, or ketchup is superior. (For the record, I’m team ketchup. Fight me.)

A Parenting Philosophy, Latke Style

Watching Mazi and Zaide side by side, frying latkes while chaos swirled around them, taught me something profound: the best things in life come out of the mess. It wasn’t just about perfecting the crispiness or getting the seasoning just right (although, for the record, she absolutely nailed it). It was about leaning into the process, mistakes and all. There’s something inherently Jewish about that mindset, finding holiness not in perfection but in the effort, the joy, and the community we build along the way. Whether it’s parenting, relationships, or even work, perfection is overrated. It’s in the trial-and-error moments, the spilled milk (or oil), and the laughter that real magic happens.

With Yael running around and Diana running around and pulling stuff off shelves, our house is often in a state of delightful disarray. And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Sure, it’s not picture-perfect, but it’s real. And in those real moments, whether it’s frying latkes or wrangling a toddler, I’m reminded what the Talmud says: “Whoever adds joy, adds life.” (Taanit 22a) And what better way to find joy than in the middle of a kitchen that looks like it lost a battle to a deep fryer, surrounded by laughter, silly arguments, and the warm glow of family?

Greasy Lessons That Stick

Every year, as we light the menorah and gather around the table, I’m struck by how much these latkes represent. They’re a symbol of tradition, love, and yes, imperfection. The grease stains on my shirt, the flour on Yael’s hands, the slightly overcooked latke someone tries to sneak onto the plate. They’re all part of the story.

And as I watch Mazi serve up a plate of latkes that could make Zaide shed a proud tear, I realize how lucky I am. Lucky to have a family that embraces the chaos, a wife who indulged my slightly ridiculous latke obsession. Lucky that my kids are growing up surrounded by the same laughter and love I did.

And in those moments, I remember that the best parts of life aren’t neat or curated. They’re greasy and loud, full of missteps and laughter. They remind us that life isn’t about getting it perfect. It’s about showing up. They’re the latkes that burn a little too much on one side, the oil splatters on your favorite shirt, and the way your toddler grins when she bites into something that’s not quite perfect but made with love.

So this Chanukah, fry up those latkes. Let the oil fly. Make a mess. And remember, as the Talmud teaches, joy is life. And what could bring more joy than a little chaos, a lot of love, and a perfectly imperfect latke?

Elmo’s Crisis Hotline: What Losing Sesame Street Means for Parents Everywhere

Sat, 21 Dec 2024 14:00:00 GMT

Why Sesame Street’s Uncertain Future Matters to Every Parent

When Diana giggles at Elmo’s antics or Yael confidently sings the ABCs along with Big Bird, I’m reminded of the magic Sesame Street has brought to my family, and families everywhere, for generations. But here’s the gut punch: HBO Max, now just Max, has decided not to renew its deal with Sesame Workshop for new episodes. And that raises the big question: What happens next?

Sesame Street: A Multi-Generational Treasure

If you’re a millennial parent, odds are Sesame Street is more than just a show for you. It’s part of your DNA. I grew up learning my ABCs and 123s with Big Bird and the Count, and now I get to see that same magic light up my daughters’ faces. Watching Sesame Street with Yael and Diana is where nostalgia meets parenting in the sweetest way possible.

It’s not just a TV show; it’s a full-circle moment. Diana perks up the minute her favorite characters appear on the screen, while Yael asks thoughtful questions about kindness and sharing after something Elmo said. Sesame Street didn’t just teach me the basics; it taught me values. And now, it’s doing the same for my kids.

The End of an Era?

For years, Max has been the home for first-run Sesame Street episodes, premiering new content on their platform before it made its way to PBS. This setup ensured the show stayed fresh and accessible for families everywhere. But with Max pulling out of the deal, the future of Sesame Street feels uncertain.

Without the financial support of a major platform, can Sesame Workshop keep producing the high-quality episodes we all rely on? It’s hard not to feel a pang of worry that one of the most beloved institutions in children’s entertainment could struggle to sustain itself.

Why Sesame Street Can’t Stop Now

Sure, the landscape of children’s programming is more crowded than ever. There’s no shortage of apps and shows promising to teach kids something valuable. But Sesame Street isn’t just educational. It’s foundational.

This is the show that taught me how to count and how to care. It’s where kids see a diverse group of characters who look, sound, and think differently but always find ways to work together. Now, Yael is picking up on those same lessons while Diana is mesmerized by the colors and music. It’s a double win: they’re entertained, and they’re learning how to be good humans.

Sesame Street has always been fearless in addressing the big stuff. When they introduced Julia, a muppet with autism, it opened the door for kids to understand neurodiversity. When they tackled racism in “The Power of We, ” it wasn’t a one-off “special episode”. It was a lesson for life. This is where social justice, kindness, and inclusion are baked into every segment.

If new episodes stop coming, it wouldn’t just be a loss of entertainment. It would be a loss of the essential conversations that help shape the world our kids grow up in. Sesame Street is more than a show; it’s a cornerstone of childhood development and a lifeline for parents like me.

So, What Can We Do?

While the fate of Sesame Street’s new episodes is up in the air, it’s worth remembering what the show has always stood for: community. That means showing up, whether it’s by streaming the existing library, supporting Sesame Workshop through donations, or just spreading the word about its importance.

And as for Sesame Workshop, here’s hoping they find a new home for first-run episodes, a partner who understands that this isn’t just another show, it’s an institution. Because families like mine aren’t ready to say goodbye to Elmo, Big Bird, or that iconic “near and far” lesson from Grover.

Sesame Street has survived plenty over the years, budget cuts, changing media landscapes, and shifting societal norms. If there’s one thing I believe, it’s that the heart of Sesame Street will endure. But the show’s future depends on all of us valuing what it’s done, and what it can still do.

Let’s Keep the Magic Alive

For now, I’ll keep sitting on the couch with Diana and Yael, reliving my childhood while they create theirs. Sesame Street needs celebrating. As parents, we can honor what it’s done for us by making sure it stays a part of our kids’ lives. Whether you’re tuning in on PBS, streaming it on HBO Max, or just sharing stories about how it shaped you, the message is clear: this isn’t just a show, it’s a legacy.

So, here’s to Big Bird, Elmo, and all the others who’ve become honorary members of my family. Thank you for teaching me, for teaching Yael and Diana, and for reminding all of us that kindness and curiosity are the real building blocks of childhood.

And honestly, let’s face it, who else is going to explain why cookies are sometimes a “sometime food” without losing their charm? Sesame Street, we’re sticking with you. Because we all need a little Sesame Street in our lives, now more than ever.

A Heart-Pounding Morning That Ended with Determination and a Familiar Send-Off

Sat, 14 Dec 2024 03:56:01 GMT

From 911 Calls to School Bells: A Morning of Panic, Resilience, and Love

Parenting is wild. One minute you’re cruising through the morning routine, and the next, you’re dialing 911 for your kid. That was my reality today. It started with fear, a dash of chaos, and, thankfully, ended with a glimmer of hope, and one of my favorite morning traditions.

It Started at 4 a.m.

Let me back up. The trouble really began yesterday. At 4 a.m. Yael woke up crying about a stiff neck. Not the “slept funny” kind of stiff. It was so bad she crawled into bed with us but couldn’t fall back asleep. That meant none of us got more than a couple of hours of rest.

By morning, though, she seemed better. A little Tylenol, and she powered through her day like the tough kid she is. Mazi checked on her during school hours, and everything seemed normal. Crisis averted, we thought.

Until this morning.

The Morning Spiral

When Mazi went to wake her up, it was clear something was wrong. Yael struggled to sit up, was clammy, and started crying that her belly hurt. Then she threw up. It wasn’t much, just bile, but it was what happened while she was throwing up that sent us into full-blown panic mode.

She got paler by the second, was dizzy, and at one point, seemed to go limp. That was it. My brain flipped into emergency mode. I called 911, and while Mazi stayed with her, comforting her and trying to keep her steady, I scrambled to clear the hallway for the EMTs.

The wait for the EMTs was (how do I put this?) pure torture. You know, when you’re waiting for help, time moves differently. Those 15 minutes were some of the longest of my life. Time slowed down, and every second stretched into infinity. Every passing second brought a new set of fears: What if this is something serious? What if they need to take her to the ER? What if…? Mazi stayed with Yael, comforting her while I buzzed around like a lunatic, trying to clear the hallway. The stroller? Out of the way. Laundry? Shoved to the side. Was I doing this for the EMTs? Sure. But mostly, I was trying to keep my hands busy so my brain didn’t spiral into the depths of parental despair.

EMTs to the Rescue

When the EMTs finally arrived, two ordinary guys and a woman who radiated calm, they jumped into action, checking her vitals and asking all the right questions. Within minutes, they reassured us: Yael’s blood pressure likely dropped from throwing up, possibly connected to her stiff neck and discomfort. There was no need for an ER visit, but we should follow up with her pediatrician later.

Hearing those words? Instant relief. I can’t describe the gratitude that washed over me. It was like the world tilted back into balance.

A Morning Reset

After the EMTs left, Yael started bouncing back. Some food, some water, and she looked more like herself again. And while we talked about the idea of her skipping school, she wasn’t having it. “I have to go to school because that’s where I’m learning to read!” she declared.

Let me tell you, this is the same kid who couldn’t have been bribed into touching her sight word cards two months ago. She didn’t dive into them this morning, there just wasn’t time, but the excitement was there. And honestly? That determination felt like the universe handing me a small win after the chaos of the morning.

Kisses, Hugs, and a Familiar Send-Off

Once Yael was settled, it was my turn to tag out. I left to take Diana to school while Mazi stayed home with Yael. Let me tell you, this kind of divide-and-conquer parenting isn’t for the faint of heart. By the time I got back, it felt like I’d lived an entire day before breakfast.By the time I got back from taking Diana to school, Mazi and Yael were ready to head out too. Yael had her spark back, and seeing her up and moving was a balm for the morning’s frayed nerves. Before they left, I gave them both kisses and my usual morning message: “Have a great day, make good choices, and ask great questions.”

That’s a story for another day, but let’s just say it’s my way of sending them off with a little wisdom and a lot of love.

The Takeaway

This morning was a rollercoaster. From the sheer terror of Yael’s symptoms to the EMTs’ calm reassurance, and finally seeing her ready to take on the day, it was a whirlwind of emotions. But if there’s one thing I keep coming back to, it’s how resilient kids are. Yael faced a tough morning and ended it with excitement for school and a renewed determination to learn.

Here’s the thing: mornings like these are brutal. They stretch you in ways you didn’t think possible, and they make you question if you’re even cut out for this whole parenting gig. Parenting is messy, chaotic, and sometimes heart-stopping. But it’s also full of these little moments that remind you why it’s worth it. Watching Yael bounce back from fear to confidence, and getting to send her off with my signature message? That’s the kind of moment that sticks with you. Would I trade the panic and chaos? Never. Being Yael and Diana’s dad is my greatest joy, even on mornings like this.

Raising Curious Kids: Why I Always Answer ‘Why?’ (Even When It’s Annoying)

Mon, 09 Dec 2024 20:07:48 GMT

How answering endless “whys” can nurture curiosity, critical thinking, and lifelong learning in your kids.

Parenting means living in a constant stream of questions. “Why is the sky blue?” “Why do we need socks?” “Why can’t I have candy for breakfast?” (To be fair, an excellent question.) If you’ve ever faced an inquisitive toddler, you know how quickly those ‘whys’ can pile up. But in my house, there’s a rule: no matter how tired I am, or how ridiculous the question may seem, I always answer.

Why? Because every “why” is a gateway to curiosity, critical thinking, and learning. And because of something I learned while working at Apple: the phrase “I don’t know, let’s find out.”

Lessons from Apple and Endless Toddler Questions

At Apple, one of the biggest takeaways wasn’t just about technology or customer service. It was the power of admitting when you don’t know something, and using that moment as a starting point for discovery. I brought that philosophy home, and it’s become a cornerstone of how I parent. When Yael asks me a tough question (like why some birds don’t fly), my response is, “I don’t know, let’s find out.” We grab a book, hop online, or just start brainstorming together.

This simple shift teaches her that not knowing isn’t a failure. It’s an invitation to explore. That curiosity? It’s like a muscle. The more she exercises it, the stronger it gets. And I’m her first personal trainer in this gym of endless questions.

Flipping the Script: “Because” Isn’t an Answer

One of my favorite strategies for handling Yael’s avalanche of “whys” is flipping the question back on her. I’ll ask, “What do you think?” or “Why do you think that happens?” At first, this was just a way to buy myself time when I had no idea what to say. But over time, it’s become something bigger: a way to show her that because isn’t the end of the story. It’s the beginning.

Apparently, it stuck. One day, Mazi (my wife) tried to wrap up one of Yael’s spiraling questions with a casual “because.” Yael shot back, “Mommy, that’s not an answer. That’s the beginning of an answer.” I mean, come on, that’s parenting gold.

Moments like that remind me why I lean into these questions, even when I’m running on fumes. When I teach her that answers aren’t just handed to you, but something you actively seek, I’m helping her build a mindset she can carry through life.

Curiosity is Exhausting, But Totally Worth It

Let’s be real: there are times when answering “why” for the hundredth time before breakfast makes me want to run out the door. Between raising two kids (shoutout to my newborn, Diana, for those sleepless nights) and managing work, the mental energy it takes to keep up with Yael’s questions can be… a lot.

But here’s the thing: fostering curiosity is one of the best gifts we can give our kids. Studies show that curious children grow into better problem solvers, stronger communicators, and more empathetic adults. And while I may not always have the patience in the moment, I remind myself: every question she asks is shaping her future.

Tips for Tackling the Toddler Inquisition

If you’re living in the world of endless “whys, ” here’s what works for me:

Use “I Don’t Know, Let’s Find Out” : It’s okay not to have all the answers. Show them how to research and problem-solve together.
Flip the Question : When you ask them what they think, it encourages creativity, and gives you a breather.
Set Limits (Gently) : Sometimes, a quick, “Let’s save that one for later” can help manage the flow without shutting them down.
Keep Answers Simple : You don’t need a dissertation on aerodynamics to explain why planes fly. Give them just enough to spark their curiosity.

Raising Problem Solvers, One “Why” at a Time

As someone who balances fatherhood, work at DoorLoop, and my branding business, I’ve realized that answering “why” isn’t just about parenting. It’s about leadership. Whether at home or in business, the willingness to ask questions, admit you don’t know, and dig for answers is a superpower. It’s what drives innovation, builds trust, and keeps us connected.

So yeah, it’s exhausting to answer every “why.” But I’ll keep doing it, because every question is a chance to teach my kids that learning never stops, and that because is just the beginning.

Have a favorite “why” moment with your kids? Drop it in the comments. I’d love to hear how you’re fostering curiosity in your home!

Lessons in Patience: What Bedtime Battles Taught Me About Myself

Sat, 07 Dec 2024 20:08:09 GMT

How bedtime battles with my kids became unexpected lessons in patience, self-awareness, and embracing the chaos.

Parenting is a never-ending rollercoaster, isn’t it? Some nights feel like you’re nailing it, reading a bedtime story as your child drifts off peacefully. Other nights? Chaos reigns supreme. My journey through bedtime battles with Yael (and more recently, Diana) has been a test of patience, endurance, and, let’s be honest, self-reflection. Spoiler alert: the kids weren’t the only ones learning something.

The (Not So) Peaceful Bedtime Routine

Bedtime starts innocently enough, baths, PJs, and a little Goodnight Moon. Then comes the resistance. With Yael, it’s usually, “One more book, Dada!” or the strategic stalling: “I’m thirsty!” Diana, at just over a year old, has a simpler tactic, crying like her world is ending until I figure out the perfect bounce-pat-rock combo.

At first, I thought this was about the kids pushing limits or just being tired. But the more I leaned into those moments (instead of dreading them), the clearer it became: the universe was handing me a mirror.

What Bedtime Battles Taught Me

1. Patience Is a Muscle You Can Build

Let me tell you, patience is not something you just have. It’s earned in the trenches, rocking a crying baby at 3 AM or negotiating with a toddler like you’re pitching to a client who walked in already rooting for your competitor. These bedtime battles forced me to pause, breathe, and respond instead of react.

2. Kids Aren’t the Only Ones With Big Feelings

Ever been on edge because bedtime isn’t going according to plan? That’s me and my wife, two grown adults, getting frustrated that a two-year-old won’t “cooperate.” These moments made me confront my own emotional triggers. Why was I so stressed when things didn’t go according to plan? Spoiler: it wasn’t really about the kids or the bedtime routine. It was about control.

3. Control Is Overrated

Parenting has a way of humbling control freaks (hi, nice to meet you). Bedtime chaos taught me that trying to control every variable, how long it takes, how smoothly it goes, is a fast track to frustration. Letting go, even a little, has been liberating.

Finding Growth in the Chaos

These little battles aren’t just about getting the kids to bed; they’re about becoming the kind of parent (and person) I aspire to be. When I handle a meltdown with calm instead of frustration, I feel like I’m giving my kids a model for managing their emotions.

But it’s not all deep and profound. Sometimes, it’s also hilarious. Like when Yael dramatically declares, “I can’t sleep without my Eli (her elephant lovie)!” at 10 PM, even though she threw it out of the bed, or Diana calms down only to immediately spit up all over one of us. These are the moments that remind me: parenting is a beautiful mess.

Takeaways for Fellow Tired Parents

If you’re in the thick of bedtime battles, here’s what I’ve learned:

It’s Not About You : Kids aren’t refusing to sleep to spite you (even if it feels that way). They’re figuring out their world, and you’re their safe space to test boundaries.
Breathe : Seriously, take a second. If I can stay calm while my toddler asks for one more story for the eighth time, so can you.
Remember the Humor : Parenting is ridiculous sometimes. Laugh at the absurdity when you can.

The Bigger Picture

Parenting is full of “teachable moments, ” but let’s not kid ourselves. It’s teaching us just as much. Every bedtime battle, every tantrum, every sweet cuddle after the storm reminds me that personal growth isn’t always quiet or glamorous. Sometimes, it’s loud, chaotic, and sticky (thanks, baby spit-up).

So, the next time you’re in the trenches, remember: you’re not just putting your kid to bed. You’re putting in the work to become the best version of yourself. And that, my friends, is worth all the bedtime drama.

What’s been your biggest lesson from parenting chaos? Share your story. I’d love to commiserate (and maybe swap flamingo-related bedtime anecdotes).

Unreasonable Hospitality: Lessons in Next-Level Customer Service

Tue, 03 Dec 2024 19:54:16 GMT

How Will Guidara’s philosophy of Unreasonable Hospitality can transform your customer service into unforgettable, shareable moments.

Customer service isn’t just about meeting expectations anymore. Nope, not in the slightest. These days, it’s about blowing those expectations out of the water, flipping them on their heads, and serving them back with a side of unforgettable charm. When was the last time a client experience left you floored? I mean, truly floored, like a moment so over-the-top amazing, you couldn’t wait to text everyone you know about it? If you’re drawing a blank, don’t worry. You’re not alone. In today’s transactional world, customer service often feels like an assembly line.

Most customer service feels like it’s been cribbed from a checklist. Enter Will Guidara, the genius who turned Eleven Madison Park into the “Best Restaurant in the World.” His philosophy? Unreasonable Hospitality , a radical approach that’s all about blowing past expectations to create moments so memorable, they border on magical. It’s all about going the extra mile, and then some.

Now, as someone who’s spent years working in CS, branding and consulting, I can tell you that Guidara’s lessons aren’t just for restaurants. They’re a masterclass for any business that interacts with people.

Spoiler alert: That’s every business. Let’s talk about why that’s not just cool, but essential.

What Is Unreasonable Hospitality Anyway?

Picture this: You’re at a fancy restaurant, and halfway through your meal, when you casually mention how much you miss a classic New York street hot dog. Five minutes later, boom, someone shows up with the perfect, gourmet take on a hot dog. That’s not just great service; it’s storytelling. It’s turning customer care into theater.

And honestly, that’s what makes it genius. Whether it’s a dining experience, a branding strategy, or the website of someone’s dreams, the goal is the same: to craft moments that aren’t just good. They’re unforgettable.

Here’s the kicker: I’ve seen the same principles work wonders in branding and digital strategy. Whether it’s shaping a company’s identity at Zossoz or designing websites at DoorLoop , those “hot dog moments” are where the magic happens.

Why It Works: The Emotional X-Factor

Here’s the thing: People crave connection. Whether you’re managing properties, building websites, or consulting on brand strategy, the businesses that win are the ones that make clients feel seen and valued. It’s easy to sell a product or service, but it’s much harder to create a genuine emotional connection. Guidara cracked the code early on, realizing that in a crowded market, your real superpower is you. People aren’t loyal to businesses; they’re loyal to how those businesses make them feel.

Unreasonable hospitality flips the script on how we think about value. It’s not just about transactions; it’s about relationships. And the ripple effects are huge:

• First-time customers become raving fans.

• Loyal fans become your hype squad.

• Your hype squad? They become your best (and cheapest!) marketing tool.

Ask yourself: What would it take to go the extra mile for your clients? Sometimes, it’s as simple as a well-timed thank-you note or remembering their favorite coffee order before a meeting. Other times, it’s orchestrating a “wow moment” that they’ll never forget.

Want to Try It? Here’s How

The good news is, you don’t need to own a Michelin-starred spot to pull this off. Unreasonable hospitality works in any industry. Let’s get specific:

1. Listen Like a Mind Reader

The key to unforgettable service is catching the little details. Clients drop hints all the time. They just don’t realize it. Don’t wait for clients to ask. Anticipate their needs. Look for those little details that tell you what they want before they even realize it themselves. When I’m working with clients, I take note of everything from their favorite coffee to their secret dreams for their business. Those tiny clues often lead to the biggest surprises.

AJ Pro Tip: Start a “client quirk log.” Favorite sports team? Check. Random hobby they casually mentioned? Double check. Then, use it to plan your next surprise.

2. Small Gestures, Big Impact

Remember the last time someone celebrated a small milestone for you? It’s a game-changer. Unreasonable doesn’t mean expensive. It means thoughtful. Case in point: Sending a handwritten thank-you note or a tiny “just-because” gift after a project wraps. Simple, yes. But the wow-factor? Off the charts.

3. Empower the Team to Say Yes

Guidara didn’t create those magical moments alone. He empowered his team to think creatively and act autonomously. Guidara’s team pulled off those mind-blowing moments because they were encouraged to get creative. Build that same vibe into your workplace culture. Give your team the green light to dream big and act fast. Trust me, the results will speak for themselves.

4. Make It Instagram-Worthy

We live in a share-it-or-it-didn’t-happen world. If a moment isn’t worth posting on Instagram, it might not be memorable enough. I’m only half-kidding here, but the truth is, people love to share stories that make them look good, and that includes moments where you went the extra mile for them. Why not lean in? Whether it’s a surprise celebration or a perfectly packaged welcome kit, these moments don’t just wow the client. They create shareable moments that amplify your brand for free.

The Payoff: A Ripple Effect of Magic

Here’s the wild part: Unreasonable hospitality doesn’t just make your clients happy. When you embrace unreasonable hospitality, the ripple effect is massive. Clients don’t just stick around. They become your advocates. They tell their friends, their colleagues, and sometimes even their social media followers.

That kind of word-of-mouth buzz? Still the gold standard for customer acquisition, especially in today’s hyper-connected world. Creating these unforgettable moments can be the most effective marketing strategy you’ve got.

AJ’s Cheat Sheet for Brilliance in Business

1. Personalization is Everything: Whether it’s a hot dog or a heartfelt email, tailor your efforts to the individual.

2. Moments Beat Metrics: Numbers matter, but they’ll never replace the magic of a personal touch.

3. Consistency Wins: Memorable service isn’t a one-off. Build it into your brand DNA.

Update, 2026: Unreasonable Hospitality Goes to the Ballpark

Since I first wrote this, Guidara has been busy dragging the idea way past fancy restaurants.

In July 2025, the Athletics brought him in (alongside their food partner, Aramark) to shape hospitality at their new Las Vegas ballpark, including a customized training program and service philosophy for the people working it. This March, they showed off the first big piece, an all-inclusive club right behind home plate . The park is slated to open in 2028.

If you’ve ever paid stadium prices for chicken tenders, you know a ballpark concourse is about the last place anyone expects to feel taken care of. (Lukewarm fries, a 20-minute line, and you miss the only run of the game.) And that’s exactly where he’s taking it next.

The lower the expectations, the bigger the moment when you blow past them.

Then in April 2026, he put out Unreasonable Hospitality: The Field Guide , a workbook he made with Don Clark of Invisible Creature. The idea from it I keep coming back to is recovery: when something goes wrong, invest creativity, not just money, in making it right.

That one hits close to home. At DoorLoop, the moments clients remember are usually off the pricing sheet, like the extra section I add for free because I can tell it’ll help, or the fee I waive when a customer really needs a win. That’s the stuff that gets a client calling their friend to say “AJ really gets it.”

Final Thoughts: Let’s Make Some Magic

I know how easy it is to get caught up in the daily grind. But Guidara’s approach is a powerful reminder: It’s the little moments that leave the biggest impact. He reminds us that the best investments are in people. Whether you’re surprising a client with their favorite coffee or creating a bespoke experience that leaves them speechless, it’s not about the money you spend. It’s about the heart you put into it.

So here’s my challenge: What’s one thing you can do this week to surprise a client? Maybe it’s a thoughtful note. Maybe it’s a perfectly timed meme. Whatever it is, go for it. Because at the end of the day, creating moments worth talking about isn’t just a business strategy. It’s a way of life.

Let’s go create some magic.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

What Abraham Joshua Heschel Taught Me About Leadership

Mon, 02 Dec 2024 04:28:58 GMT

Applying Timeless Spiritual Insights to Everyday Decision-Making

When we think of iconic leaders, it’s usually folks like Abraham Lincoln or Steve Jobs that pop into our heads. But for me? It’s Abraham Joshua Heschel. This rabbi, philosopher, and civil rights advocate didn’t just inspire movements. He’s shaped how I approach leadership, whether I’m deep in branding strategy for a client, mentoring a team member, or, let’s be real, negotiating bedtime with my daughter Yael.

Leadership isn’t about barking orders or endlessly chasing KPIs. It’s about something far deeper: humanity, empathy, and clarity in every choice we make. Here are three lessons Heschel taught me that keep showing up in my life as a dad, consultant, and tech company director.

1. “In every moment, something sacred is at stake.”

Heschel’s belief in the sacredness of the everyday blew my mind when I first came across it. It’s not just about religious reverence. It’s about bringing that sense of awe and purpose into even the smallest decisions. Whether I’m building out a website for a client at DoorLoop or teaching Yael how to share her toys, this philosophy reminds me to ask: What’s the bigger impact here?

It’s easy to get lost in the grind, emails, meetings, deadlines, but when you zoom out, every decision shapes relationships, culture, and outcomes. This perspective helped me shift my focus from short-term wins to long-term impact. Whether I’m building a website or teaching my daughter Yael to say “please, ” I know every moment is an opportunity to lead with purpose. Leadership isn’t a to-do list; it’s a constant opportunity to align your actions with your values.

2. Empathy: The Non-Negotiable Foundation

Heschel’s insights on empathy cut straight to the heart of what it means to lead with humanity. He wrote, “A religious man is a person… whose greatest passion is compassion.” Now, you don’t have to be religious to get the weight of that statement. It’s a reminder that leadership starts and ends with compassion.

In my day-to-day, empathy is what turns conversations into connections. Whether I’m guiding a client through a tricky website build at DoorLoop or trying to decipher why my younger daughter Diana won’t nap, it’s not just about understanding someone else’s perspective; it’s about showing up with compassion and acting on it.

Heschel warned, “When religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion, its message becomes meaningless.” Substitute “leadership” for “religion, ” and the truth still holds. Authority without empathy? It’s hollow. Leadership rooted in compassion? That’s where trust, collaboration, and meaningful impact thrive.

Empathy isn’t optional. It’s the thread that ties us to the people we lead and serve. This mindset builds trust, whether you’re leading a team or trying to avoid a toddler tantrum. And honestly, it makes life more rewarding. When you lead with empathy, you stop asking, “What’s in it for me?” and start asking, “What’s best for all of us?” and it makes every outcome richer, every relationship deeper, and every decision better.

3. The Balancing Act: Humility + Chutzpah

Heschel embodied a paradox I deeply admire: humility paired with boldness. This man marched alongside Martin Luther King Jr. not for fame, but because he felt it was his moral duty, the right thing to do.

As a leader, this balance of humility and chutzpah (a little audacity never hurt anyone) is essential. It means acknowledging when you don’t have all the answers while still having the courage to take decisive action. For me, this translates into moments where I leave my comfort zone (humility) but still take the leap (chutzpah). It’s that balance of being grounded while having the guts to take a leap of faith.

In branding and consulting, this often looks like taking risks, like pitching an unconventional design to a skeptical client. Sometimes it works; sometimes it flops. But the act of trying, of putting yourself out there with confidence and grace, is what sets great leaders apart.

Why This Resonates

Heschel famously said, “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement.” For me, this doesn’t just mean appreciating the beauty of a sunset; it’s about seeing leadership as a sacred act, one where every decision is an opportunity to inspire, uplift, and create something meaningful.

As I juggle life in Miami, building brands at Zossoz , innovating at DoorLoop, or chasing Yael and Diana around the house. I’m constantly reminded that I know I’m a work in progress. But if I can bring even a fraction of Heschel’s wisdom to my decisions, that’s a win.

Heschel is also a decent part of why I built Derekh Learning . Most of us didn’t stop caring about this stuff, we just lost the habit of sitting with it. An app won’t make you wise. It’ll just get the text in front of you on a Tuesday, which is most of the battle.

So here’s my question for you: What does leadership mean to you? Is it empathy? Boldness? Something else entirely? Let’s keep the conversation going, drop your thoughts below!

Guess Who’s Back (and Hopefully Better)?

Sun, 01 Dec 2024 20:24:35 GMT

Hey everyone, it’s AJ Oberlender here, your favorite witty, occasionally frazzled dad, and Miami sports enthusiast. It’s been a minute (or, you know, several) since I’ve updated this blog. Between raising two amazing daughters, Yael and Diana, juggling life at DoorLoop , and running a couple of side hustles (I’ll mention them from time to time), things got… let’s just say busy.

But no more excuses. Starting now, I’m making a commitment to show up here more often. Whether it’s sharing branding tips, diving into the joys of fatherhood, chatting about Miami sports, movies, or religion this blog is where I’m putting my thought energy. Expect insights, laughs, and the occasional dad joke (you’ve been warned).

I’m excited to bring this space back to life and share more of the journey with you.

Let’s do this.

I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .

Tom Sawyer and the Art of Not Painting

Thu, 04 Feb 2021 00:03:00 GMT

Why Painting Will Never Be My Thing: A Story of Fence Manipulation and Family Rescue

I absolutely hate painting. Period. End of story. No elaborate explanation is needed, but since you’re here, let me tell you why my disdain runs deep.

The “Tom Sawyer” Childhood Drama

Back when I was a kid, long before Mazi and I were debating what color to paint our baby’s room, I got into some trouble. My mom, in all her genius glory, decided my punishment would be painting our wooden fence. Now, here’s where things get interesting. At the time, I was reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and I swear she must’ve planned this to mess with my head. She was basically playing mind games with my literary education.

So there I was, paintbrush in hand, pretending to be farther along in the book than I actually was. My friends, like good neighborhood kids, came over to hang out. I played it cool, hyping up how much “fun” I was having painting this fantastic fence. And just like that, my friends were begging for brushes. Did I step back and let them take over? Of course, I did. That’s what a master manipulator, I mean, good friend, does.

Unfortunately, there’s no photographic evidence of that fence, but trust me, it was the Picasso of punishment projects. Or so I told myself.

Fast Forward to Today: Still Hating Painting

Now, fast forward to adult AJ, where painting isn’t just a punishment. It’s a nightmare. Mazi (my amazing wife and partner-in-all-things-home-projects) had been asking me to paint our baby’s room for months. Months. But I kept dodging it. My excuse? A furniture set we couldn’t sell. Because clearly, you can’t paint until the room is empty, right? Well, we finally sold the furniture last week, so I was out of excuses. Begrudgingly, I started priming the walls with her, and somewhere along the way, I told her my childhood fence story.

Her response? “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding painting?” Busted.

Enter My Sister, the Hero

Lucky for me, my sister, Gabby, stepped in like a superhero with a paintbrush. Honestly, she saved the day, and probably my marriage, by volunteering to help. Thanks to her, the painting is done, and I don’t have to pretend to enjoy it. I can focus on what I truly love: building furniture. (By the way, you can call me Harrison Ford. Or don’t. I’m good either way.)

Why This Post Matters

This isn’t just a thank-you post to Gabby (though she totally deserves it). It’s also a reminder that sometimes, the people around us step up when we need them most, even if it’s for something as mundane as painting. So, here’s to teamwork, sibling heroics, and my eternal hatred of painting.

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I give talks and webinars on this. If your team or event wants the longer version, with the numbers behind it, take a look at the talks .