The Next Big Thing
February 26, 2013 – Atlanta, Georgia, USA
Jack Clemons shuffled into the suburban Atlanta Waffle House for what was likely his last meal with his business partner, Kevin. The two chose the no-nonsense Waffle House because prices were low, and it was across the street from their soon-to-be-vacant office. Jack slid into a booth across from Kevin.
Kevin leaned over and retrieved an envelope from his satchel. He passed it across the table to Jack.
“What’s this?” Jack asked, before opening the envelope, to discover almost $500 in cash.
“Your half of the remaining money in the corporate account. All the bills are settled. I closed up everything at the bank. So that’s what Small Swing Enterprises is worth in the end.”
Jack always hated the name of their company. He blamed it on Kevin, who had insisted it sounded memorable. For the past six years, they had bought, sold, refurbished, and managed miniature golf courses from Georgia to Arkansas. Unfortunately, mini golf was not as popular as it once was. Young people did not understand the appeal and more courses turned from money makers to money losers. Jack and Kevin had gotten into the business at the wrong time and barely sold their assets before the company was practically worthless.
“Now what?” Kevin asked Jack. “You decided on what you’re gonna do tomorrow, now there’s no office to run?”
“For once, I’d like to think long and hard before rushing into something. Take some time off. Relax. I’ve always been late on ideas because I react instead of thinking things through. I was late on mini golf. I was late on video rentals. I was late on everything about the internet. I’d like to be early for once.”
Kevin chuckled. “Me too. So what’s the next big thing?”
“Nobody knows yet. By the time they know, it’s already too late to get there first.”
Kevin chuckled again. “I think we’ve had this conversation at least a thousand times.”
“I know I’ve got at least one good, original idea in me. All I need is to get it out of my head.”
“How will know if it’s good?”
“By now, I can recognize bad ideas. I’ll just eliminate all of those until I’m left with the only good one.”
“And you think it’s already floating in your head, huh? You gonna use hypnosis to get it out?”
Jack looked down at his envelope of cash. “Maybe I could use the money to totally relax. Melt away everything but the idea. Like a true brainstorm.”
“Go get a massage.”
“Sure, a massage. And anything else that would help my brain percolate.”
“Don’t percolate too long. It’s not like you can spend the rest of your life waiting for the right daydream to come along.”
“At least I have to try.”
Kevin went quiet and pretended to look at the menu before saying, “If you do think of a billion-dollar idea, give me a call. I thought we made pretty good partners, all things considered.”
Two days later, Jack had worked up the nerve to start his brainstorm experiment. He did not know much about massages, but there was a clean, reputable-looking studio near his house. He stopped in to find out how customers should dress. Jack was surprised to learn that most customers completely disrobed and stayed beneath a sheet. The receptionist said they had an opening and Jack could start enjoying a massage right away. He felt impulsive and soon found himself lying face down on a table.
The massage room was warm and dark. It smelled like mint. Soft instrumental music played in the background. A fountain trickled. A masseuse named Sage introduced herself and began rubbing Jack’s back. He quickly relaxed under the pressure of her strong hands. Then he remembered his brainstorm. He tried to push his thoughts toward business ideas, but he kept hearing the gentle music. The next thing he knew, Sage was waking him up.
“How do you feel?”
“It’s over?”
“It’s been an hour.”
“Really? I guess I fell asleep.”
“Do you feel it in your muscles?”
“Sure. But I was supposed to be brainstorming.”
On his way out, Jack spotted a brochure for a better way to stimulate his brain. The owners of the massage studio also ran a float spa containing sensory deprivation tanks. They promised to open places in his mind never explored. Jack visited the next day while his body was still sore from his massage. The girl at the front desk explained that their tanks were completely dark and filled with dense saltwater.
“You can’t sink. And we remove all sights and sounds. Your mind has to wander.”
“It’s good for new ideas?”
“Perfect for new ideas.”
Jack found his private room, which contained an egg-shaped pod. He followed the instructions telling him to take off his clothes, climb inside, and close the lid. His body lay suspended in warm water. The space was absolutely dark and quiet.
“Okay, think, think,” Jack said to himself. “What do people want to buy? What can’t they do without?”
No voices in his head answered. His mind remained absolutely blank. Before he could wonder if it contained any ideas at all, he fell asleep. He woke to a voice on a loudspeaker telling him his session was over. He left feeling groggy and frustrated. So far, idea extraction was a total failure.
Jack figured his problem was being too relaxed. He needed to keep his eyes open. A nature walk sounded like the perfect environment. Clean air, beautiful surroundings, and physical activity were sure to stimulate his business mind. He found a nearby park with a two-mile loop hike and arrived wearing comfortable shoes.
Jack began his hike while admiring the blue sky and budding trees. The cool air invigorated his lungs. He was barely out of view of his car when the easy-to-follow path split in two. Jack turned to the right, thinking he could backtrack if he chose a bad direction. He kept his eyes on the compacted dirt in front of him as he tried to conjure up a product everyone wanted. How about a cooking utensil? No, those had been done a million times before. Something you needed in the shower? What did you need other than soap?
As Jack tried to think about shower routines, he began to worry about the right turn he had made. Then a swarm of flying insects dive bombed him, and he felt something in his shoe. He decided it was time to turn around. He made it back to his car in one piece, but without any new product ideas.
“I liked the scenery,” Jack said to himself. “But the walking was distracting. How do I get one without the other?”
Maybe the only good idea Jack’s hike produced was that he might enjoy a calming train ride through the countryside. He checked out Amtrak’s departure schedule from Atlanta and booked himself on a four-and-a-half-hour trip to Birmingham, Alabama. After finding the correct train, he immediately walked to the viewing car, which had seats facing the wide windows.
Jack watched the trees and fields pass in a blur. He liked the click-clack sound of the wheels on the tracks. He liked the zigzag shapes of water trails on the windows when it rained. He thought hard about new types of service businesses. He could go into people’s homes and do what? Clean them? Pet sit for them? He lost the threads of his thoughts as he drifted in and out of short naps. His return trip from Birmingham produced the same result.
“I liked the view and the feeling I was going somewhere, but the trip was too long,” Jack told himself in frustration. “I need a shorter ride. Maybe get off every so often and stretch my legs.”
The solution to Jack’s problem seemed to be MARTA, Atlanta’s commuter train. He drove to one of MARTA’s stations and got on a train headed nowhere in particular. He liked getting off and walking around unfamiliar neighborhoods and then returning to a window seat. Most of his fellow passengers kept to themselves, leaving Jack to brainstorm in silence. He spent days wondering about products and businesses in every possible category. With every new idea, he came up with a reason it should be ignored. As he made more fruitless trips, he worried there was no hidden gem inside his head after all.
Jack gave himself one more day to come up with something. He took a train toward downtown Atlanta and tried to lose himself in thought as he stared out the window. At one of the train’s stops, two young men boarded and sat right behind him. They wore shorts and carried something resembling a tennis racket. From the moment they appeared, they talked nonstop about the game they were about to play.
Since Jack was trying to concentrate, he gave the newcomers a dirty look, hoping it would shut them up. They ignored him and kept jabbering about game strategy and how they wanted to recruit people for a tournament. They were so obsessed and enthusiastic, Jack decided maybe he should pay attention. When they stood up, he followed them off the train.
With Jack trailing, the two young men hurried to a tennis court. On both sides of the court’s regulation net, two new makeshift courts had been created with two shorter nets. Players hit balls back and forth, making a plinking sound. The game reminded Jack of a large version of ping pong. Twelve people stood in line, waiting to play. Jack asked one of them what they were watching.
“It’s called pickleball.”
“Pickleball? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s kind of new.”
Suddenly, a vision opened inside Jack’s mind. He saw the future with pickleball courts everywhere. And they were not simply modified tennis courts, they were built specifically for this new game. Everyone would play. People did not know it yet, but it was something they would all want.
Jack closed his eyes and let the vision continue. He would be the one to supply the courts, the balls, the rackets. A pickleball business would be similar to miniature golf. He had wanted to avoid the recreation market, but why not build from his previous experience? The right answer to his brainstorm had never been in his head. He only found it by opening his eyes and ears to an annoying conversation on a train.
That night, Jack called his old business partner. “I got it. You ever heard of pickleball?”
“No.”
“You will. Everybody will. We’re going to cover the South in pickleball courts. We’re going to build them and sell everyone the equipment.”
Ten years later, Jack’s pickleball vision was a reality. He and Kevin’s new company, Big Swing Enterprises, had offices in seven cities and on average their crews built six new courts per day. For once, Jack was ahead of the game.
Please remember to subscribe for weekly reminders about new stories. You can subscribe by clicking here: Subscribe. You can also follow new content on any Podcast platform or on YouTube.