Tag : skydive

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133: An Advertising Lesson from a Dead Skydiver

Parachutest coverFor a combined birthday & anniversary gift, my wife bought me my first solo skydive lesson. With that came a temporary membership in the United States Parachute Association and a couple months of Parachutist, their trade magazine.

January’s cover featured the recent record-setting, 135,891-foot skydive by Alan Eustace. The images of the 57-year-old Google vice president’s ascent and free fall comprised just one of multiple articles on all kinds of astounding records, acrobatic maneuvers, and unique group formations from the last month in the sport.

Before you get to the ads and drop zone directory in the back of each issue, you’ll find one or two of the few photo-less pages in the 92-page publication. Trust me, you’ll be glad there are no pictures. The big words at the top of the page read, “Incident Reports.” A short paragraph explains that these pages are for educational value.

Incident reportTo a rookie, these reports seem extremely thorough, explaining what caused each fatality, what could’ve been done (if anything) to avoid it, and even a list of the type & brand of all the gear the deceased was implementing at the time of the incident. Each report tells how many years the jumper had been skydiving and how many jumps they had successfully completed prior to their last one—both cumulatively and within the past 12 months, based on their log book. One of the recent fallen had jumped over 6,000 times, 75 of those in the past year. One exception to the disclosure transparency: only age and gender are given, as no names are divulged.

It got me thinking. In most (if not all) cases, the didactic summaries are similar to the cautionary tales that I heard in my seven hours of training before my jump. Why publish this information? Why bring the mood down and show the risks instead of just the rewards?

Nameless, this column isn’t an obituary. My guess is that the sport wants the world to know it has nothing to hide and that withholding reality only hurts those who participate in it.

The auction industry has a similar stigma to that of the sport of parachuting. Both are seen as risky business to the uninitiated and inexperienced.

I design auction advertising day in and day out. One of the most ubiquitous phrases I’m given to include spans all asset types and geography: “selling ‘as is, where is’ without warranty.” It’s how auctions are sold to sellers—that they can have “contingency-free sales” where “the seller sets the terms.” This is appealing to those who are selling distressed real estate and used machines alike; and it gives the auctioneer confidence to sell just about anything legal.

“Buyer beware” favors the seller, the one to whom my clients have fiduciary responsibility. Since that’s usually well-disclosed, everyone involved understands that the buyer takes that uncertainty into account with their bid.

To give buyers more confidence, many auctioneers take extra steps in their online content to record videos of what’s being sold. I’ve got clients who proactively snap pictures of often over-looked details and even the evidence of wear or damage. On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve got other clients who have refused to disclose information like square footage or number of bathrooms, tax assessment or lot size, and miles or hours on a piece of equipment. “We don’t want to keep them from coming out to the auction,” they explain.

My response tends to sound something like, “They’re going to find out. Why force them to waste time coming out to bid on something they won’t want? They’re going to call or email you to ask this question. Why not save your time and theirs by just disclosing the facts? Honesty on the front end reduces questions and objections later.”

Parachutest recommendationWhy not be more like the editors of Parachutist? Why not just put the truth out there for what it is, and let the marketplace determine its value?

If someone is not interested in buying the item as it exists, it’s unscrupulous to push them toward purchase. That’s not a sustainably-positive brand image. “Well, maybe they’ll bid on something else in the auction.” Then advertise that something else. Otherwise, you’ve got a case of bait’n’switch on your record.

The insecurity behind this subterfuge stems from the very real fear that we won’t get stuff sold. Since most auctioneers work on straight commission, this makes each deal speculative to varying degrees. I get it. Candidly, that’s why I’ve never been successfully tempted to become an auctioneer, even though I’m confident in my ability to market assets. That said, maybe the decision of how to describe an asset could be avoided with the decision of whether to take the deal in the first place. (I make my money on an auction whether it sells or not; so, this suggestion threatens my livelihood, too.)

In December, I helped a client build a robust property and market analysis report for the seller of a multi-million-dollar asset. I’ve created few proposals with as many comparable sales—definitely not one with as many decimal places in the aggregate sale figures. I emailed the auctioneer a few weeks after the submission to see if he got the auction.

[Paraphrase] “No. The seller didn’t like our estimated value. He went with one of the other guys who promised him a higher sale price.”

I responded along the lines of, “Well, better to avoid the stress of the seller’s expectations. Let your competition handle that headache, while you spend your time on easier, profitable work.”

That pragmatic approach works if you’re trying to get buyers or sellers—or people to jump out of a plane with you.

A Lesson in GravityThis experience in every way lived up to my expectations. Wow! Huge adrenaline rush with a sense of accomplishment. I doubt that I will ever pursue my solo license, due to the expense; but I absolutely enjoyed growing in my life experiences and my appreciation for what skydivers do by well-trained instinct. A long day of ground school proved worth it for my 18 minutes (or so) off the ground. The Timmy mentioned at the beginning of the video is the one person I know would do this with me. Most importantly, he’s the one dude I’d want to do this with me, if I ever get the chance to do it again. #heartpoundsalute
For the record, the soundtrack (attributed at the end of the clip) is VSC’s rights-purchased music, which is why I couldn’t edit this shorter for you.

Posted by Ryan George on Monday, October 27, 2014

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“It Doesn’t Get Better Than This!”

During a 2012 Truthworks Bible study, we spent the summer in the book of Ecclesiastes. It’s kind of a downer journal, in that it accounts the ancient Israeli King Solomon in his full pursuit of happiness and finding emptiness on the other end of that search. Then and now, it hits close to home, as I’ve tried all kinds of thrills and accomplishments; and I’ve taken turns with different experiments to feel accomplished.

I was reminded of that headspace again a few Saturdays ago, as I was saying my goodbyes to the folks I met for my first AFF skydive. One of the other skydivers, punctuated an invite to my next lesson with “It doesn’t get better than this!”

I’m not sure if that was just a cliché to carry the general sentiment, or if jumping out of a plane was the zenith of his life experience. Either way, I can agree with the idea that there’s nothing like the free fall out of a plane, the yank of the opened chute, or that sense when your feet touch down—alone under that bright canopy.

Three's a Crowd

I can say, though, life does get better than that.

For background to what I’m about to say, know that I’ve tested that hypothesis.

I’ve bungee jumped in three (foreign) countries and paraglided in five. I’ve also flown in a biplane, a sailplane, two seaplanes, two parasails, a hang glider, an ultralight, a hot air balloon, and even a doorless helicopter pulling a 180º slide. I’ve jumped out of an airplane on both the north and south sides of the equator and jumped off a mountain with a trash can over my head. I’ve whitewater rafted class V rapids on rivers 17 time zones apart and kayaked rain-swollen creeks. I’ve driven a retired Indy car over 180 mph and spun out a Formula 2000 car on a 12-turn road course. I’ve had my daily driver on the track, off the ground, and over 110mph on the way to church. I’ve repelled waterfalls on two continents, ice climbed in Argentina, and zip lined more than 600 feet above a rainforest in Costa Rica. I’ve climbed a 57-meter construction crane in South Africa, stood on the helicopter pad atop Paris’ tallest skyscraper, and jumped off the 63rd story of the then-tallest building in the southern hemisphere. I’ve hiked some of the most iconic trails in the world, including Peru’s Inca Trail, British Columbia’s West Coast Trail, Switzerland’s Walkers Haute Route, and parts of the Appalachian Trail. I’ve wakeboarded, snowboarded, and river boarded—in the coldest river in France (3ºC) and in a deadly river in New Zealand. I’ve gotten medical treatment for whiplash from high-speed boat tubing and crashed a personal watercraft after taking it airborne. I’ve snowboarded, snow skied, and driven a go-kart on packed snow in a windchill of -30ºF. I’ve taken a snowmobile to the Continental Divide and an elevator to the bottom of Niagara Falls. And the most intense of them all: I’ve done 79 mph on the back of an Olympic bobsled run with the former Jamaican bobsled coach depicted in Cool Runnings.

I can tell you, it gets better than any of that.

Fitz RoyI’ve written a nonfiction book, won writing competitions, and garnered over 200 marketing awards for clients and fellow employees. My company has sold over a million dollars of freelance graphic design; and I work in a 1,200 square foot office 15 steps from my bedroom. Hundreds of people subscribe to my blog posts; and I’ve had standing room only at some of my seminars around the country. My articles have appeared in two handfuls of publications, and I’ve had a press release go viral around the world. I’ve been asked to write other people’s wedding vows, and one dude hired me to write poetry to present to his wife. I’ve filmed a unique car commercial in Los Angeles, and I’ve been interviewed by automotive journalists at the New York International Auto Show. I’ve hit up an IHOP with an Atlanta Braves player after midnight and won a most romantic husband award at a marriage conference. One of my comedy bits (a series of Tweets with fictitious reality TV show concepts) got showcased on a podcast with over hundreds of thousands of subscribers [70:00-mark], and I’ve been retweeted by Mark Cuban.

I can tell you, it gets way better than any of that.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying those adventures and accomplishments were worthless. I’m definitely not saying that they were void of exhilaration, accomplishment, or self-realization. But they didn’t bring lasting joy. In fact, like narcotics, they create an ache for more and make the battle for contentment more difficult.

On a much, much smaller scale than Solomon, I’ve taken the pleasure, treasure, and influence trains to see where they go. This side of heaven, I wouldn’t call them completely empty and pointless like he did; but I haven’t taken the trains as far as he did. I don’t plan to see where those tracks lead, since he’s already transcribed what I’ll find there.

What’s better than physical adventure is the spiritual journey with Jesus. Career success and social recognition—mine anyway—only looks good and important, if I forget the size of the ponds in which I swim. [They range from small to microscopic.]

Baptizing Emily

You know what does “get better than this”?

Baptizing your sister.
Baptizing your buddies who attribute part of their spiritual growth to your influence.
Standing at the bottom of a glacier, shouting God’s attributes into the wind.
Feeling hands on you as people pray for you or a loved one.
Hearing a spiritual rookie pray the best they know how.
Worship so real and intimate that tears stream down your cheek.
Acts of subtle sovereignty that let you know you’re loved.
Prayer answered in wild ways.
Words that come to you from a place outside of yourself.
Perfectly-timed text messages from others or to others by Holy Spirit prompting.
Bro hugs from other grown men who you don’t have to impress.
Witnessing the change in and around surrendered lives.
Having a friend ask you to write a eulogy for him to read over his mom.
Being part of something bigger than yourself.
Knowing that your life counts and makes a difference.

Those don’t necessarily look as good on social media, let alone on GoPro’s Facebook page. Those relatively small moments don’t always make the annual Christmas letter, either. But in those hours when I’m wondering what the “point of it all” is, my encounters with the supernatural are the moments I recall to get my bearings. When challenges hit, those are the memories that give me the confidence to get on my knees first and often. Those are the mile markers that measure my journey.

Dunkin' Buddies

At the end of my life, I’d rather be known for what I did in a prayer circle, in a reflective vest, in a counseling conversation, or with a text message than anything I commercially wrote or designed at my desk. No matter the pictures that’ll be shown at my memorial service, I hope people have stories of how they saw Jesus or his attributes in me. When someone else writes my obituary, I hope they can honestly write, “He pursued spiritual and physical adventure in such a way that others were drawn to do the same.”

For me, it wouldn’t get much better than that.

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