When Commoners Innovate

In my last post, I suggested that there were four basic kinds of innovation in the world arrayed along an axis of significance and an axis of chance.

At one extreme we have entrepreneurs like Steve Jobs and Henry Ford who intentionally and majestically innovated in ways that had long-term, significant impact on the world. Smart, Big Impact. They are to the far right on the innovation distribution curve, the ones who earn their way there.

Next door, we have the smart folk who stumble upon a "big idea" that develops into a world-beater, like Facebook or Google. Lucky, Big Impact. They are also at the far end of the distribution curve, but the one marked "Luck." (And "Rich," too.)

Then, of course, there's the lucky and "smaller impact" innovations--like the Slinky. There are thousands of those tiny improvements that invade and enrich our lives.

Finally, there's the quadrant where most of us Commoners, innovation's hoi polloi, are expected to innovate each and every day. Indeed, one of us may have a huge idea from time to time and escape over the border to the northern quadrant, and we might have an accumulation of small innovations that add up to something big. We might also get hit by the lucky stick. Still, as Commoners, it's unseemly to aspire beyond our caste. We need to practice smart innovation, and we need to do it everyday.

Quintessential Commoner Innovation: The Better Mousetrap

Build one, to misquote Emerson, and the world will beat a path to your door. It turns out that the mousetrap, with 4,400 patents approved (and many more disallowed), is the most frequently invented device in U.S. history.

What says "innovation of the hoi polloi" better than a new idea for a mousetrap?

At this time of year we get mice in our basement. So, last weekend, I found myself in the local Co-op scoping out the many ways mankind has invented to capture (crush and kill) the common field mouse.

As you can see, there's a virtual treasure trove of devices, including a plastic owl, something called "Havoc," a "rodent station" and even some 20th implements of destruction. (Note the Deer-X in the middle, reinforcing my belief that deer are simply rats with long legs and short tails.)

Behold the innovation! "TomCat" kills mice with a black-looking thing, "Home Defense" with some white-looking things, and "RatMax" looks like a French pastry.

I don't know what "Mouse Magic" does, but it gets innovation credit (in my book, anyway) for repelling mice at the same time offering them "no escape." (That is going to be one confused mouse.) And, to the right is our old friend, the conventional trap that trips itself about half the time. Below that, something that eliminates the dreaded "nasty nest."

Finally, we have traps that look like camouflaged door stops. That will certainly fool the mice in my house.

None of these innovations will change our lives, but all of them are the product of a person--or more likely, a group of R&D and marketing people--working hard to innovate around the basic mousetrap. And truthfully, there are differences that matter--we don't use poison because we have pets, and we don't want little creatures suffering, and no way am I going to have a mouse stuck on glue for five days withering away because I forget to check the trap.

With all those conditions, I did find the perfect trap and, since Saturday, have caught three mice. So, Commoner innovation can rock.

Commoner Innovation: A Model

In June 1985 in Saint Paul, Minnesota, four experienced jazz musicians---sax, piano, bass and drums--were brought to an auditorium and told that, in about an hour, they would be performing a live concert consisting of three complete sets. None had ever played together (a so-called "zero-history" group) and they were not allowed to rehearse or use sheet music.

It's not quite NASA trying to solve the problems of the Apollo 13, but it must have been one pressure-filled hour. Needless to say, the concert was a great success. Here's what happened:

1. Together, the four men had 200 years of experience. They quickly figured out what songs they knew, and in which keys they all felt comfortable.

2. They chose a leader, someone to call the tunes and the key, and to engage with the audience. They also agreed on certain conventions--for example, the piano would start each song, there would be no dragging (intentional slowing of the beat), and solos would be ended by a full resolution of the current chord.

3. They decided that each would solo in each selection, and the soloist could call the time and level of complexity before turning the song back to the group, or to another soloist.

4. They relied heavily on nonverbal cues in the first set--especially lots of eye contact--which lessened dramatically by the third set.

5. The leader started with a simple song, "Sunday," that allowed for a relatively limited range of musical choices. The second song, "You Took Advantage of Me," had more potential for invention and the third song, "Misty," even more.

6. At the close of the third set the group invented an entirely new song on the fly, "Twin Cities Blues."

Some Possible Conclusions for We Commoners

My guess is that at least some of the mouse-catching innovation I saw in the Co-op last weekend played out in R&D and Marketing groups a little bit like the successful 1985 jazz concert. If so, what can we learn about how we Commoners might innovate?

First, innovation can spring more easily from a group that shares a common vocabulary and data set. The richness of experience becomes a plus, not a constraint of "tradition trying to innovate." In fact, think about a situation where a talented but young and inexperienced player is inserted into the group: options for invention decrease significantly. (Maybe why our young MBAs get a bad rap sometimes.)

Second, there's a leader. An innovation group needs direction. If one isn't chosen, one emerges anyway. Ixnay on the atflay.

Third, they all knew the unwritten rules of the game, and specifically agreed on others that might be unclear.

Fourth, everyone got to solo.

Fifth, they didn't try to conquer the world in the first song. They went easy, innovating in small and comfortable ways until each began to understand the other.

Of course, with most innovation groups in most companies, the story continues, with constraints driving invention. Our jazz group had to deal this time with no sheet music and no rehearsal. Suppose we bring them back together and ask them to compose three new songs, but this time give them a practice session. Suppose we introduce a new instrument into their band.

The jazz model is limited in comparison to the constraints that could be placed on a team trying to innovate the next mousetrap--make it for a nickel, use only paper, catch two mice with one trap, etc.--but it provides some useful lessons for how your next group of Commoners might organize, relate and evolve.

We may be trapped in the lower right quadrant, but we can still have some fun while we're there.

P.S.--My choice: "Home Defense." Clean, no suffering, no poison, and forces me to bait with peanut butter (and sample a little while the jar is open). Still, I may have to ask for that electronic owl for Christmas. . .