The opportunity cost of broken brand systems
My current state of connectivity is challenged. Or simply challenging. Probably both.
My office Internet provider no longer wants to connect to my email service providers, and neither one of them are willing to take responsibility for the network dysfunction. And that’s me playing telephone on support chats, relaying Provider One’s system report to Provider Two, and back again, trying to get one of them to care enough to call the third party on the daisy chain of telecom services that is the point of failure. My Internet provider, who shall remain nameless, even going so far as to suggest that I should call random security company to talk about how these two companies are not working well together.
The things of life that are meant to support you in a world where they are not exactly opt-outable have failed one after the other like dominoes. Oven, burned out. AC, worn out. Garden irrigation, locked up. Kitchen pipes, literally crumbling. And a landlord looking me over like I cast a spell on them, instead of it all just being really old.
Even the actual mail no longer arrives at my house, because. Because why shouldn’t it also make life extremely complicated?
It’s a flywheel of doom: just getting to the next minute. Of just in time. Or just until the next thing breaks.
I’m here to tell you, it ain’t no way to live.
But it’s how so many brands, especially brands at a particular juncture, or stage of growth, operate. And it’s not a failure of their own doing.
It’s the failure of a system built for a life bigger than it can hold. Or, put another way, the failure of a system that was put in place for a smaller version of what that brand was. And it’s no longer playing a supporting role. It’s on life support, and every ounce of spare effort is spent in keeping from flipping the off switch.
Instead of running a business, executing a vision, actually growing the company, there’s a whole fire burning just keeping the system rolling along to the next thing, fixing what breaks ad-hoc style.
Maintenance. And not the calm, preventative, we-got-this-on-a-schedule kind.
Logo files are scattered. Brand colors change depending on day of the week, and also perhaps on how infuriating it is that nobody knows which colors are actually correct.
Every new package starts from scratch. And the founder becomes a living repository of truth because the system can’t answer basic questions without someone holding its hand.
Instead of building, they’re reconstructing.
Instead of looking forward, they’re gazing behind at the things that used to work.
Instead of growing, they’re filling in cracks.
That kind of just-in-time reactivity carries a cost. And it’s a cost that keeps brands invisible.
When resources are burned just to keep motion humming along until the next thing, there’s no room for vision, there’s no accountability to mission, and there’s no real connection with the people who would care most about what the brand means.
Nobody longs for “that’ll do.” Nobody leans in to hear about the replacement parts, the long hours, or the worry.
Structure is the thing meant to fade into the background. Not the brand, not the founder, not the story.
And maybe when the last straw finally breaks, when the thing you needed to work has ingloriously failed for the last time, maybe it’s just time to move.
It’s 5 o’clock. Do you know where your logo files are? Or why your color palette has five versions of the almost-same shade. Or why every new project starts with the same question you answered last time?
The brand quiz can help tell you exactly where you are in the journey, so you know what actually needs doing next.