Dopp Juice Archive

I love Tara Hunt’s post today about Social Capital and Community Freeloaders. She dives into the nature of “favors from friends,” and writes:

“Now, I don’t want to reduce every interaction we human beings have with another person to being a transaction, but, in effect, it is. If I ask a friend for a favor, she is bound oblige. However, if I ask that same friend for ten favors, she may start to feel like I’ve depleted my “allowance” on my account with her. Of course, with different people, we have more leeway. With our close friends and family we have loads of Social Capital to withdraw from and as our relationships get more casual, the less influence and favor we carry with others.”

Basically, you have a bank account. The more Social Capital you’ve accumulated in that bank account, the more of a safety net you have when things get rough and you need help.

Tara breaks Social Capital transactions into a very nice table of deposits and withdrawals. “Performing a favor,” for example, is a deposit. ” Expecting that people come to your events when you don’t go to theirs,” on the other hand, is a clear example of a withdrawal.

I appreciate that she lists all of these deposits:

• Asking for the first favor
• Asking for a lateral introduction
• Encouraging people to get involved in your projects.
• Requesting simple advice.

It’s the second favor, the prestigious introductions, the unsolicited sales pitches, and the extensive advice that send hits to your Social Capital resources. But simple and friendly “I could use your help” shoulder-taps can actually strengthen a connection. They show someone that they’re important to you, and that you value what they have to offer.

Another fun read on this subject is Never Eat Alone: And Other Secrets to Success, One Relationship at a Time.

Q: What’s red and giggles and completely screwed up the American economy in December, 1996?A: Tickle-Me-Elmo

Have I ever mentioned that I worked in toy stores before I started building websites? I did this on and off for more than five years, and it was probably the best education I could have ever received in marketing and consumerism. Toys, especially around the holiday season, don’t get marketed to the people who will spend money on them; they get marketed to the people who will ask for them as gifts. Why? Because it’s easy to say no to an advertisement; it’s hard to say no to someone you love dearly.

(Have you ever tried to get two children to leave a toy store without buying something for them first?)

But notch it up to Adult Land, and there are a few toys getting big attention this holiday season. They are…

The Amazon Kindle – a portable book reader that’s easy on the eyes and connects directly to the Amazon store from anywhere. Check it out:

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Some grief has risen up in the blogosphere about the Kindle because, while it allows access to blogs, it allows certain ones, and you have to pay for them.

And people seem to have already forgotten that there’s a very similar competitor also available, the Sony Reader, which connects — you guessed it — to the Sony store.

Both devices hold more reading material than I would get through in a year, both weigh less than your average hardcover, and neither supports color (my guess is that’s the next generation).

But if the Internet has made you too A.D.D. to read books anymore, you might be more interested in this toy:

The Chumby – Kind of a cross between a computer, a television, a stereo, a stress-relieving squeezeball, and a picture frame. Take a look at the intro video to get a feel for what I’m talking about:

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If this is your dream toy, you’ll want to keep an eye on the widget factory over at Chumby.com.

(Oh, and Mom? Please don’t buy me any of these. They’re kinda silly and I really don’t need them. Thanks.)

I wish you all a very merry Buy Nothing Day, filled with lots of exercise and blogging.

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I’m thankful that I can still pull out my New Hampshire plaid shirt and rock the farmer-girl look when green beans and sweet potatoes are hitting the table.

I’m thankful that two years ago, I spent my first Thanksgiving in San Francisco roaming the streets alone, seeing the holiday from a completely different perspective. I’m equally thankful that this year, I’ve had more turkey dinner invitations than I could say “yes” to. Much to my surprise, I’m attending four of them (one of which is being described online in mouth-watering detail). I’m thankful that this means I’ve made friends in this city, many of whom I’ve started calling “family.”

I’m thankful that my family of origin is healthy and safe and doing well. My mother, a minister, doesn’t have to work today. Neither does my step-father, a business owner. All five of their children are off in different cities sharing thanksgiving meals without them, and they are home, quiet, feeling immensely thankful to be home for once, and to be able to be quiet.

I lost a grandfather this year –a big man of few words who always carved the Thanksgiving turkey when I was growing up. I remember his large, calloused carpenter hands. They built things for us. They carried us. They were rocks.

I still have five living grandparents. Five. I have a lot to be thankful for. And somewhere in New Hampshire, there is an 8-year-old girl who thinks her Cousin Sarah is the most exciting person in the whole entire world, and I take that responsibility very seriously.

I’m thankful that I found the tech industry (or maybe that the tech industry found me). I spend every day in awe that there is a community and an economy that values all of my skills, embraces my independent style, and pays me well enough to live in this (expensive) beautiful fairytale land of a city. I accepted a position at a new firm yesterday. My gratitude and excitement are uncontainable.

And I’m thankful I didn’t wake up this morning with a Surfer Dude next to me. And I’m hopeful that if he figures out how to spell my last name and decides to google me, he’ll forgive me for my recounted perspective on our evening.

Please remember the pilgrims today, and vow to be much more sincere and respectful than our country’s origins teach us to be.

Cheers!