In our experience, we have seen many organizations working on the fruit and not the important components that produce the fruit.
We are privileged to work with many agriculturally based companies and often rub shoulders with the people who feed us on a daily basis. From that experience, we know that if you ask a farmer, he will tell you that when the fruit is mature, there isn’t much you can do to make it better. You might be able to shine it up a little on your sleeve, but if it’s bad, you’ve just drawn attention to the badness.
The same holds true for what you are selling/promoting (the fruit). Focusing your efforts on the final product and ignoring your brand is an exercise in fruitility (pun intended) and disappointment.
Nature teaches us, along with many other scenarios, that we must look after the plant in order to realize great fruit. We must carefully look after (nurture, empower and protect) the brand, which will then produce the desired results.
We’ve all heard the saying money doesn’t grow on trees. Often, that’s because we haven’t looked after our tree the way we should have.
In August 1914, as Europe moved toward war, Ernest Shackleton sailed from Britain with a crew of 27 men aboard the Endurance. His ambition was immense: to become the first to cross Antarctica from sea to sea.
By January of the following year, that ambition had been arrested by the Weddell Sea. The ship became trapped in pack ice, then drifted helplessly for months until the pressure of the frozen ocean crushed its timbers and sent it to the bottom. The expedition that had set out to make history could no longer accomplish the thing it had been formed to do.
In 1933, commuters in London were drowning in information. The city’s underground railway had grown rapidly, and official maps tried to show every tunnel exactly as it existed underground. Lines curved and twisted to match geography. Distances were technically accurate. Streets, rivers and landmarks crowded the page. The result was a mess. Riders squinted, hesitated and missed their stops — not because the system was broken, but because the message was.
It’s summer 1997. Apple is wobbling, and the conference room has the tired smell of corporate wishful thinking. A new comeback line is pitched: “We’re back.” Heads nod. Then Steve Jobs, newly returned to the company, cuts through it: Apple isn’t “back” yet. A slogan can’t be a victory lap. It has to be a compass.

