Boston is a great city. It’s the only place I’ve called home. The Pru, the Hancock, the Custom House Tower. The smell of salt water from the harbor. The roar of the crowd as Mike Carp rips a grand slam. If you talk to any true Bostonian, they will defend their city with a fierce passion.
But no city is without its flaws. I mean, who lets a bunch of cows’ meandering design your streets? And despite the recent success of our sports teams, the first thirteen years of my life were but a small part of an 86 year drought (my heart goes out to any fans of the Chicago Cubs, you will have your day in the sun). But one strange rallying cry of the Boston people is The Standells’ song “Dirty Water.” The song doesn’t provide the most glowing review of our city, yet we own that song.
How many companies describe themselves as cutting edge, innovative, thought leaders that are revolutionizing the industry with big data? How many ninjas and mavens and pirates are running around on LinkedIn? Now I’m not saying that you should go around heralding the fact that your product will result in an extra unwanted appendage, but sometimes when you embrace the warts, you get a prince in return.