A division of Brooklyn United, Brooklyn Digital Foundry directs and produces engaging video and visualization pieces to connect brands with online and offline audiences.

I sat down with Brian Lemond and posted three crucial questions on belonging:

1. Good brands are bought, but great brands are joined. Why do you think your employees join yours?
Both of our businesses, Brooklyn United and the Brooklyn Digital Foundry, have grown up as DIY operations. They were founded on simple things: curiosity about the marriage of design and technology; a desire to make something; and a commitment to busting as much ass as it took. The key thing supporting our brands’ growth, both from a client-side and a recruiting/retention side, is we’ve stayed true to those origins, that ethos. That consistency allows us to be very sincere when presenting the companies, and our audiences recognize that sincerity and want to connect with it.
We often say in the studio that today’s marketplace is about showing off your true self, and having faith there’s an audience for that. We’ve translated that into a handy catch-phrase: Be You. Be Loved. 

2. The great workplaces of the world have soul. What do you do to humanize your culture?
The most visible thing on this front is, ironically, a dog named Oscar. A lot of offices in the New York Digital District (NYDD), aka DUMBO, Brooklyn, are pet-friendly, but we wouldn’t trade Oscar for anything.

More officially, we humanize the studio culture by treating people well. We recognize our employees have two agendas: doing a good job for us and realizing their own dreams. We produce better work and have happier employees the more we know about both sides of that equation. So communication is a huge concern for us and we’re always looking for ways to improve our dialogue within the studio. We encourage sharing of information both formally and informally, we make sure periodically the team puts down their mice, laptops, and tablets and chills out, but most importantly, we ask questions and listen to the answers. I think as a result the studio ends up being a reflection of everyone in it; the culture is grown rather than passed down from the top.
3. Belonging is a basic human craving. How do you remind employees that they’ve found a home?
We want to be a part of something, but we want that something to be going somewhere or accomplishing something. In our studio, the indicators/reminders are the very things that define any community — shared experience, recognition of individuals, historical awareness, celebration of accomplishment, and so on. That’s the macro view. At a more granular level, that translates into the simple things like actually caring about each other. When you ask people questions, they can tell when you don’t care about the answer. I’ve worked in offices and with people where that sense of community, that interpersonal connection, was not present. Guess what? I’m no longer at those places and I didn’t bring those people with me.

We spend a great deal of time and energy, much of it just being extremely patient, looking for the right people to join our team. When we find them, we do our level best to let them know we don’t take them for granted. My hope is if we’re clear and open enough about how much we value them — their ideas, their time, their contribution — they’ll feel they’ve found something like a home.

Thanks Brian!

When I was twelve years old, my dad taught me how to play music.
One of the first lessons he taught me was, it doesn’t matter how good the song sounds, as long as you start together and end together, you’re still a rockstar.
And whether you’re playing music, pitching a customer, telling a story, professing your love, giving a speech, firing an employee or giving any kind of performance, this approach works for a few reasons.
First, the bookend keeps you safe. By knowing exactly what you’re going to say at the start and finish, you never have to worry about weak openings or flat endings. Most people only remember the first and last words out of your mouth anyway. May as well make them memorable.
Second, the bookend gives you permission. By setting parameters on the performance, you create space for the material to breathe. This creates room for spontaneity, leaves the door open for lightning to strike and allows you to respond to the immediate experience. That way, the audience isn’t just another stop on your route of rote.
Third, the bookend keeps you focused. By owning the frame, you keep yourself within the allotted time. This helps you manage the clock, add material when needed and cut material when necessary. That way, when it’s time to wrap things up, you can move right into your close.
Start together, end together.
Let the middle take care of itself.
That’s how you become a rockstar.

I started my business the day I graduated college.
And unlike many of my counterparts, I had no debt to cover, no spouse to support, no kids to feed, no employees to motivate, no coworkers to support, no community responsibilities to fulfill and no social obligations to juggle.
Sound liberating? It was. And I’m eternally grateful that I was in that position for so long. Certainly sustained my productivity.
The only drawback was, it made me less hungry. It made it too easy not to care. If I didn’t make a sale, nobody’s life suffered except my own. If I didn’t bring in new business, the repercussions were nominal.
Meanwhile, my older colleagues with looming mortgage payments and recurring pediatrician bills were scrambling to close deals, lest their families lose faith in their breadwinning abilities.
That’s why I didn’t make any money for three years – I didn’t have to. There was never a deep-seeded motivation to develop that muscle.
If I had to do it again, I think I would have installed more acute sales pressure early on.

Saying yes to uncompensated work can be a smart move.
I’ve done a handful of pro bono gigs over the years that changed my career forever.
But when we donate our services, our job as independent professionals is to set a precedent of value. To always remind buyers what the market pays us, even if they don’t. And to always alert buyers that our time isn’t just valuable – it’s billable.
Without that declaration, without taking a stand for our own professional worth, we not only cheapen our instrument, but we also earn a reputation as a doormat. And that makes it increasingly hard to get fully compensated work in the future.
We are what we charge, but only if the market knows what we charge.

ROKKAN is an independently owned digital agency reinventing the way brands interact and engage with their consumers. 
I sat down with co-founder Chung Ng, and posed three crucial questions about belonging:
a) Good brands are bought, but great brands are joined. Why do you think your employees join yours?
Time and time again, when a new hire joins our team, they talk about how it was the work and the culture that drew them to ROKKAN. We look for young, fresh talent to work on top-tier, adventurous brands. We hire very carefully and intentionally, since every new person is a new link in the ROKKAN chain; we like our small size, and keep it that way. The opportunity to roll up your sleeves and work on killer brands right off the bat is a pretty huge draw that we hear about from our ROKKANites, almost as much as the communal, open vibe around the office and in our approach/process to client work. When an office runs on creative energy and mutual respect, amazing things are bound to happen.
b) The great workplaces of the world have soul. What do you do to humanize your culture? When a new person joins ROKKAN, it’s not about joining another company—it’s about joining a family. We have a very close-knit community here, often, fellow ROKKANites are friends as much as co-workers. Since we’re a small company, we’re able to really put culture first and do a lot of events that a larger agency just couldn’t sustain.CWe have the annual Pool Party + BBQ, where we hold our own hot dog eating contest and a Dim Sum Day where new employees have to try the weird stuff on the menu a la Fear Factor. 

But, we’re about education as much as we’re about fun. “Recess” happens once a month—a company-wide gathering where any ROKKANite who wants to may have the floor to teach anything they want for an afternoon, whether it’s how to maximize frequent flyer points, how to play bar chords, how to make an app, or analyze Shakespearean sonnets. It’s a great way to feature “the other side” of our ROKKANites, and let everyone glean from shared expertise as well as learning about each other’s side projects and interests.
c) Belonging is a basic human craving. How do you remind employees that they’ve found a home?   
At ROKKAN’s SoHo loft, we don’t have any cubes–it’s an open plan. Even our conference rooms are clear glass.  We have several lounge areas where people can just plop down on the couch, work, and have spontaneous conversations and collaborations—almost like home.  We also are extremely pet and bike friendly, so it’s quite often that we have ROKKANites commuting in together, or bringing their puppies to work with them. Snacks and a kegerator are always in the kitchen, along with a never-ending supply of coffee. Tunes are crowd-sourced and different people “guest-DJ” the workday.
Bottom line: being at the office is inviting and comfortable, allowing for maximum creativity and a very healthy, positive work environment. At times, the only difference between working at the ROKKAN office, and working from home, is that you probably couldn’t get away with those footie pajamas in a client meeting.

Thanks Chung! Learn more about ROKKAN here.

“Thank you for allowing me to learn something today.”
That was the exit line from the customer service agent of Bank of America.
Not, thank you for calling. Not, is there anything else I can do for you? Not, are you satisfied with your level of service today? Not, would you be willing to take a minute to answer our online survey about your customer experience for the chance to win a thousand dollars?
Just thank you. Thank you for teaching me something.
In his gratitude, he demonstrated respect. In his ignorance, he projected vulnerability. In his unexpectedness, he created memorability.
I wonder if your service department can do all that in nine words.

As much as we seek consistency, there are parts of us that are always changing.
What we thought was a cherished value was just a preference that was too convenient to be killed. What we thought was a limitation was just an illusion about what we can and can’t do. What we thought was a perfect future was just an outdated plan that had no relationship with reality. And what we thought was an essential part of our identity was just some idea we made up a long time ago.
We are one constant re-beginning. And as human beings, it’s our responsibility to keep that margin open. Otherwise, in the name of sticking to our guns, we shoot ourselves in the foot. We live a lie in perpetuity instead of appearing wrong once and moving on.
In a way, the consistency is still there. It’s just a matter of what we’re consistent with.
The truth, or our history?

I met a guy who runs a nursery.
He told me that when customers walk in to buy mulch, his favorite service moment is when he gets to ask them, “You want it now?”
Jaws. Drop.
Now? Really? You mean I don’t have to wait all afternoon?
Nope. Thirty minutes. You can get your mulch before you get your pizza. Chip will even follow you home from the store if he has to.
That’s service. And our job, no matter what we sell, is to explode the gap between what people expect and what they experience.

The goal is to create a holy shit moment.
An interaction so soaked in wow, that people can’t help but tell the world.
Try making an intentional point of over delivery. When customers ask you for an arm and a leg, hand them a hacksaw.
Try responding promptly, not just when you can. When customers send you a message, get back to them instantly and watch what happens.
Try stalking just enough to learn what they love. When customers show up, give them a personalized gift you couldn’t possibly have known about.
Try invoking something obscure. When customers come back, mention something from their last visit they barely remember.
Trying memorializing their brand. When customers get your email, demonstrate a valid reason for your persistence with a value forward attachment.
The more holy shit moments we create, the more money we make.

Apple users don’t need instructions.
In a pinch, they can always hop online to find product information sheets, troubleshooting pages, installation handbooks, online tutorials, user guides and owners manuals.
But why search for instructions when you already have permission?
Steve Jobs democratized technology. He created products that don’t require anything but curiosity. You just open the box, press the button and let your imagination carry you away. Meanwhile, his competitors at Blackberry, whose 329-page instruction manual could pass for a university textbook, are seeing an eighty percent decline in stock price.
Simplicity is isn’t just elegance – it’s eloquence.
Make it beyond easy for customers to use your products. Invest the majority of your time, money and energy creating beautiful things that don’t require a degree to operate.
And people won’t think twice about taking a bite out of your apple.