As you can imagine, there’s a lot for me to say right now, but the first and most important thing to get out of the way is that the headline of this post is made up and Nugget didn’t just sell to Amazon. We aren’t considering selling to Amazon. Amazon isn’t considering buying us. (They are probably well on the way to copying us, though.)
But for the sake of argument, let’s pretend we did. If I had posted that news to my Instagram or Twitter, what would’ve been the reaction? I’ll tell you what I think — I think it would have been the most popular social media post of my life. And that makes me uncomfortable, for a couple of reasons.
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First, I don’t have much enthusiasm for mega-corporations, or for being absorbed by them. I’m not saying there should necessarily be a universal culture of shame around selling small companies to bigger companies, but I’m also not of the mindset that these events are something to blindly celebrate. In some instances, they are a value-add for all stakeholders involved, including customers. In many, these are moments of market consolidation, in which competition is being decreased, and a market leader is being subsumed by a multi-industry giant that would’ve otherwise had to compete in the space. For the enrichment of a few, a less healthy marketplace is left for all.
Not only is market competition often decreased, but so is a degree of humanity. To whatever extent a brand or company can operate with a human touch at 100 employees, or 200 employees, it undergoes a metamorphosis into something decidedly different when rolled up into a company of 1,500,000. With each additional rung on the corporate ladder, with businesses removed further and further from the founders who started them, decisions become more about numbers than about people: where to set down corporate roots, what policies to create, how much to pay. Cold, and emotionless — leadership by spreadsheet.
Many people I know understand all this. But if Nugget sold to Amazon? It would all go right out the window. I doubt I’d get hard questions, privately or publicly, with the exception of from a few close friends. And it’s because of a simple mental shortcut we’ve taken to heart: bigger is better; bigger is good.
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And in a way, it makes sense. We need shortcuts. In the blinding, hyperloop rush of algorithm-based news feeds, there’s only so much time. So when a friend buys a house, or gets a job, or gets married, we give our stamp of approval and words of encouragement. When they post a random update about how they’re doing? Not so much. We may not notice, but the algorithms do. And the cycle becomes virtuous — the only events worth reacting to, and therefore worth sharing, are those that are really big.
I’m here to say, Amazon or not, what’s happening at Nugget every day right now is pretty dang big. For one thing, we’re learning how to not just make products available online in a variety of colors and fabrics, but figuring out how to do it with three times as many people involved as we had just a year ago. We’re finding our own unique ways of promoting play and imagination, exploring powerful community partnerships, and working to leave a mark on the legacy of North Carolina manufacturing.
And it’s not just us. Right now, there are people in your inner and outer circle doing very cool things who will only get their flowers if and when they sell their company, when they sign a record deal, when they get featured on a major website. What would you say to them in that moment? Say it to them now.
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This Field Note is already far too long, but in short, compliment and congratulate and cheer on your friends, even if they didn’t just sell to Amazon, or land a book deal, or get a teaching fellowship. Chances are, they probably don’t hear often enough how you feel about their work, and telling them could go a long way. And if your friend actually did sell to Amazon? Right after the congratulations, ask them why. What made it the right fit, the right timing, to be sucked under the umbrella of the most dominant company in human history?
This is a perfectly fair question to ask (maybe not in those exact words), but given the prevailing business culture of breathless idolization of founders, they may not take it well. It may be considered incredibly rude that selling to Amazon provoked anything in you other than an outburst of clapping emojis. Your relationship may suffer. But in our existing climate, one of credulous, uncritical adoration of money, deals, sales, with no real interest in the other factors involved — we all end up suffering in the long-run.
We didn’t sell to Amazon, and we probably won’t. But if we do, I hope that, somewhere amid all the fire emojis and “Yassss!!!” exclamations under my post, tucked into the nooks and crannies of the comments section, I’ll find some hard-hitting questions from the loyal, skeptical, critical readers of this post.