Observation: Ecosystems

The word 'ecosystem' has been thrown around a lot in my line of work. I admit, I am a culprit of contributing to this buzzword, using it when I propose an ambiguous solution to creating an integrated marketing communications approach.

"They're not asking for a communications plan/consumer journey/path to purchase. What they're looking for is a more of an ecosystem. People don't follow the same linear path anymore, they can enter at any point and stage through any channel."

This is usually met with agreement as i) it's a true statement ii) a different way of thinking iii) a great way to showcase higher-level thinking. However, even ecosystems need direction and some form of linear progression forward, something strategists/consultants typically overlook in their intent to see the big picture. They just want to connect the dots - they don't care what the dots are. But the beauty and complexity of an ecosystem is exactly that. The dots. That this particular dot is linked to the other, what the symbiotic relationship is and why it is inherently necessary they are linked. That's the purpose of using an ecosystem as the solution, not the entire system, but the connections that make up the dots.


Take for instance, a public park. I was walking on the High Line, trying to find a coveted empty 'lawn chair' seat, the ones where you can stretch and lay out on. It was a weekday in the afternoon so I had pretty good chances but it was lunch time so it was still peak hours. The seats came in a two-person width and I eventually ended up finding one with a solo park visitor taking up one side. However, her bag was placed purposefully on the middle, claiming her stake of the seat until a stranger had the gall to ask her to move it. I did not. Park/subway New York etiquette rolled through my head - there were plenty of other non 'lawn chair' seating available, it would be akin to sitting down next to someone in a mostly empty bus or train. But then a flash of annoyance. She clearly knew she was taking up prime seating real estate just so she could have her space and comfort. I ended up sitting on the short bench adjacent to it, signaling my interest. Etiquette dictates she move her bag - she doesn't. Instead, she spreads her lunch out, clearly interested in keeping her luxury cabana spot.

As I sit there, I study her. She is affluent, stylish hair, expensive outfit, a trendy salad next to an equally trendy bag. But as she frowns checking her email, I also imagine she is stressed from whatever high-paying job she has, where she likely only has a precious lunch hour to sit by herself and enjoy the non-chaotic outside. I empathize with this hypothesis since I'm clearly projecting my own scenario on her except today is my day off and I am nowhere near stressed. So I need this less than her and feel almost guilty trying to interrupt her moment of peace.

At the same time, I stretch out my legs diagonally so they rest on the edge of her unoccupied space of the lawn chair. Her move.

She shifts slightly, but stubbornly remains in place. What I've done now then, is at least stake my claim. When her lunch hour ends, I have all but to slide in place and happily share the other side to whoever who wants it. Everyone kind of wins a little bit.

Yet I still can't get over the thought of her perceived entitlement because I did feel a chord of guilt. Why did I feel she was entitled to it? What if she hypothetically did earn the right to it by being a stressed out corporate city resident? How would that play out?

Making a couple more assumptions, she makes enough to work and live in the city. She likely pays her city taxes at a higher scale because of her salary, contributing to the maintenance of the High Line. Who knows? She might even be a donor or park member. So from a financial contribution perspective, she likely pays more than me to help the city keep this park maintained and the chairs clean and free to sit on. Satisfied, I lean back and close my eyes.

Momentarily, I am awakened by a thrill of tourists. They have converged on our area, five of them, voraciously looking for a place to sit. Two sit next to me and the rest flank the other woman's side. She flinches imperceptibly, I know she is perturbed by this development. They talk in a foreign language excitedly to each other, back and forth across us, drinking coffee and eating loudly. I put my headphones on and pay no attention but am also acutely aware of their presence. The woman next to me then suddenly gets up and sits down near my leg on the empty lawn chair, to talk to her friend across from her. And as if she just happened to notice where she was sitting was a mostly empty spot, one that happened to be considerably more comfortable than her own seat, she proceeds to slide in between my legs and the woman's bag, somehow easily finding her place. I almost die trying to hold in my laughter, as the woman moves her bag closer to her in defeat. I don't even know if the tourist noticed as she continues cheerfully talking to her friend. I don't even care that she took the seat I was waiting to claim, since she was so brazen about it.


What again went through my thought process was the same scenario. Should she be entitled to the seat? Does the woman with her bag be allowed to be justifiably annoyed? This woman was a tourist. Surely she had made no contributions to this park through exorbitant city taxes. Technically, she has no right. Except, she did. Maybe even more. At least indirectly.

She is a tourist - from a group who likely traveled to the city together in a larger tour group. Her contribution to the tourism economy as an individual is maybe negligible, but as a horde, highly significant. Her approval and interest of making a return trip could result in her going back home and planning to come back again next year, and telling people how enjoyable her trip was. Her being able to get a coveted seat on the High Line probably made her experience more positive. The better the tourism economy is, the more likely the city is to spend on city attractions, including something notably like the High Line. Perhaps to even create more and better seating.


This is why connecting dots is so interesting. The most obvious connection makes sense but how about the unlikely one? What if we came to discover that brought back exponentially larger and long-term results? And the reality is ecosystems need both to maintain it. An ecosystem can't thrive on single connections alone. A public park needs a consistent supply of city residents (current customers) to subsidize its maintenance and a renewed supply of international tourists (prospects) for continued expansion.

A corresponding observation to this is people tend to attribute the success of a product based on whoever contributed to it directly (and most often - the last person who touched it), which is only partially true. But talking about attribution is a whole other topic which I'll save for another day.