Thinking Differently Never Jumps the Shark

When I decided last month to put my “Thursday Thoughts” into a formal Friday composition, I was immediately confronted by the visual. Right there at the top, LinkedIn recommends “uploading or dragging in an image that is 1920x1080 pixels.” Nevermind an image that is relevant, familiar, or novel, it has to be Full HD with 16:9 aspect ratio.

A picture is worth a thousand words, and I’m trying to keep these thoughts under a thousand words, so we’re talking 50% of my total message needs the right optics. It needs to communicate without words. It needs identity. So I called on my friend Caitlin Stassa , who helped construct the framework you see starting here. If we’re talking business you’ll see the coins that made us capitalists as kids. When I return to the topic of cannabis , you’ll see a different set of 8 bits. Today let’s talk customer experience.

Setting the Table

I am a visual learner. I am also plagued by a reading disorder (or stupidity as one teacher suggested, back when that was routine). A long time ago it was a disadvantage that with anger and persistence I turned into a summa cum laude Bachelors in Classics and Archaeology and a Masters in Editorial Studies. A social weakness turned into a professional strength.

But it never goes away. It is a part of how I’ve seen the world, and what media best informs it. As a child I gravitated to comic books. The pairing of word with image made sense. And so superheroes meant something well before the MCU . They were my stories. My myths. Later I learned I was not alone. While the controversial font Comic Sans might provide letters with less crowding and more distinct letter shapes , it is the visual that helps cement these letters with meaning .

The IP of comic books is big business, with conventions featuring their writers, artists, cos players, and big screen adapters. San Diego is Ground Zero for these kind of events but locally we have FAN EXPO Boston, complete with Artist Alley, plushie vendors, voice actor panels, and celebrity autograph opportunities.

The celebrities are normally relevant to the genre. Last year’s FAN EXPO featured Hayden Christensen (Star Wars), Peter Cullen (Transformers), and Bill Shatner (legend). But I did not go to meet any of them. One name stood out above all the rest: Henry Winkler.

Cards on the Table

In 1974 America got a new superhero: The Fonz. And for over a decade his super power was being cool, and propelling his show Happy Days to the Top 5 in the Nielsen ratings for three straight years (and Top 20 for most of its run). That meant something before cable television, smart phones, digital streaming, and the democratization of entertainment. There were three networks back then, and the Fonz made money.

Anyway, you couldn’t eat lunch at school without seeing Fonzie on a lunchbox, and Arthur Fonzarelli was played by Yale thespian, Henry Winkler . By all accounts Henry Winkler is the nicest man in Hollywood, which is not easy when you’re an actor, and a producer, and your company created MacGyver . Hollywood is tough! I can’t imagine reading all those scripts and memorizing all those lines, and Winkler has done it with dyslexia.

I first learned Henry Winkler had dyslexia on the Kevin Pollak Chat Show . I love a good long interview, and this was not the first (nor last) time he would be public about his late-in-life diagnosis . He advocates for children with neurodivergent aptitudes . And I needed a picture with him.

Table Manners

If you’ve never been to an autograph signing, let me paint the picture. There is a table. That table is loaded with relevant memorabilia that the fan can choose to get signed if he/she/they have not brought something from home. There is a line of people. Sometimes that line snakes around a circuitous rope and sometimes it’s straight down a hallway.

The last detail to this picture is the object of your fanaticism. The celebrity sits behind the table. The celebrity may lean forward to understand what you want them to write besides a signature, but there will always be the barrier of a table as the line of defense between the fanatic and the celebrity. Usually there are handlers, infantry to protect that wall, re-organize memorabilia, and manage the contactless payments.

There’s plenty of time in line to think about how you’re going to react when you get to the front, and never enough time to deliver the ideal reaction the way you want it. When it’s your turn you pick what you want from the table. You pay what they charge. You trip over your words and hope to God you don’t blink if you’ve paid for a photo.

And that’s when you really hate the table. There has never been a good photo taken of two people between a table. They’re sitting, maybe they awkwardly stand if you’re lucky. You’re bending into frame, turning your neck at an impossible angle while trying to figure out what to do with your hands and chin. Nothing about it is natural. I was prepared for nothing personal. But Henry Winkler stood in front of the table.

Turning the Tables

Let me paint a different picture. Henry Winkler’s table was full of memorabilia. Henry Winkler’s handlers were behind the table. The line stood 10 feet back, giving Henry Winkler the space to walk up to each person, introduce himself, and usher that fan to the table to transact the purchase. You then walk back over to Henry Winkler for the photo. Two people, side by side, taking a personal picture.

I understood what was happening before it was my turn, and still couldn’t believe it. In a hall of celebrities, each with a table, each with a line, the Fonz was up and moving and signing and smiling in a manner completely different than his peers. They were divided by commerce. Henry Winkler was multiplied by intimacy.

Table Stakes

It took a minute or two to figure out what I wanted him to sign. Of course it had to be the defining moment of Happy Days. One that has lasted well beyond the popularity of the show. People might not remember who first jumped the shark , but it was the coolest superhero on ABC in 1977.

I was able to stammer thanks for his work advocating for neurodivergent children. And I asked him to sign the picture to my wife, pledging his allegiance to the best apizza in New Haven, Connecticut (remember he went to Yale).

As we come up to FAN EXPO 2024 in Boston this weekend, I am thinking of what I learned last year. It does not take dyslexia to think differently, but it does take a willingness to embrace a different perspective to produce a different experience. To go beyond an affect, and provide an effect. In the world of business that could be the difference between being Henry Winkler, or just another celebrity.

What picture do you want to take?