The world isn’t short on good ideas.  It’s buried in them.  The graveyard of business is full of great ideas marketed poorly.  They were smart.  Useful.  Honest.  But nobody felt them.

Somewhere along the way, the owners stopped seeing what made them special.  They got too close.  Too used to it.  They started talking about specs and features, numbers and tactics—the measurable stuff—and forgot the part that can’t be measured.

People don’t want your product.  They want what it does for them—and what it says about them.

A car gives both utility and meaning.  It moves you—and it tells the world who you are.  A computer, a shirt, a beer—they all do the same.  They make life work, and they make life mean something.

When a business forgets that, the story dies—and when the story dies, everything else follows.

I go inside a business and strip away everything that’s dulling the signal—the noise, the jargon, the marketing autopilot—until what’s left is the thing that still makes it worth caring about.

Then I rebuild everything around that truth: the story, the look, the tone, the experience.

Because when the story is right, the business starts breathing again.  People stop tuning it out.  They start feeling it.

And when they feel it, they buy—not just the product, but the better version of themselves that comes with it.