Clear process + AI = level up
Messy process + AI = growing chaos

When I start working with a new client, I'm never walking in with a preset, one-size-fits-all solution. I'm showing up the way a doctor does before making a diagnosis; asking questions, listening carefully, and trying to piece together the most accurate picture I can before recommending anything.

Excited to share that I'll be speaking at ZapConnect on Sept. 23, hosted by Zapier!

The most straightforward way to calculate automation ROI is also the most obvious: how long does this process take manually, and how often does it happen?

For example: if a process takes 30 minutes every time a new client is onboarded, and you onboard 10 clients a month, that's 5 hours of manual work per month. Automate it, and you get those 5 hours back every month.

Every week I talk to small business owners who want to implement AI. And the first question I always ask is the same:

Why?

Not to be difficult, and not to make them feel stupid, but because "implement AI" isn't actually a goal. It's a solution in search of a problem.

Ah, the Five W's. A foundational framework that's been taught in journalism for over 100 years, and one I haven't stopped using, even though I haven't worked in journalism for years. Turns out it's just as useful for documenting business processes as it is for writing a news article.

Last week I shared my thoughts on the Airtable acquisition. This week, a natural conversation has emerged that's less about Airtable specifically and more about something bigger: what happens when a tool you've built your business around changes in ways you didn't choose?

First, what do we know definitively? Bending Spoons has agreed to acquire Airtable.

What is speculation? Literally everything else.

This week I recorded the first two videos in a new series I'm calling the Essential Guide to Zapier. It's built specifically for people who have never built an automated workflow before, people who have maybe heard the word "automation" or "Zapier" but aren't quite sure what it means or where to start.

This time ten years ago, I was in the early stages of moving away from journalism and into ghostwriting for a book publishing startup. Four years ago, at the same startup, I was long out of ghostwriting and instead leading a full team as Head of Systems. Nine months ago, after surviving that company's implosion and being offered a chance to help re-build it under new owners, I was laid off anyway.

Manual lead research is one of those tasks that sounds manageable until you actually add it up. A Google search here, a LinkedIn dig there, maybe a quick scan of the company website. Fifteen minutes can quickly turn into a half an hour or more if you go deep. And if you're fielding ten new leads a week, that's potentially hours of prep time, hours that scale directly with your pipeline and eat directly into everything else.

The trap I fell into was thinking, "This level of effort got me here, so to get to the next level, I just need to do more." Work harder, take on more, say yes to everything; just ... more.

That logic, as it turns out, is completely backwards, and it took a mentor asking me a simple question to see it.

"If you say yes to everything, what are you saying no to?"

A mentor said that to me almost 10 years ago. I still ask myself that question on a daily basis.

Closing a deal feels great. Someone said yes, the agreement is signed, and the money is coming. A lead just became a client, and that's always a win worth celebrating.

And then, if you're not careful, things get messy. Not dramatically and all at once, of course. It's more subtle than that.

The deal closed, but the handoff didn't happen.

There are a lot of great tools out there. And especially for small teams moving fast, it's easy to say yes to something new. Twenty bucks a month? Let's try it! Forty bucks a month? Seems worth it! Sometimes those tools are great. Sometimes they catch on and become indispensable.

But sometimes they just quietly keep charging you while nobody's actually using them anymore.

So to call me Matt instead of Andrew, it happens. But here's the thing: if you can't get my name right, how can I trust anything else you're saying?

Somewhere along the way, as email volume grew and work became increasingly online, the inbox became a to-do list. An email comes in, gets a quick scan to make sure it isn't urgent, and then gets marked unread as a little flag to come back to later. Hours pass, sometimes days, and the flag gets buried. The mental note fades. And in the background, there's this anxiety of wondering: did I actually follow up on that?

If something comes into your inbox that needs action, it deserves a real home somewhere that's purpose-built for it.

Your inbox should be where communication lives. Not where your to-do list hides.

Posting consistently on LinkedIn is hard. Coming up with things to post about is harder. But here's the thing: it doesn't have to be.

Here's something that might sound counterintuitive: the sign of a truly great system is that you don't notice it.

Think about an offensive line in football. When they're doing their job well, nobody's talking about them. The offense moves. The quarterback has time. Things just flow. It's only when they're giving up sacks or committing penalties that they become the story. The best ones are practically invisible.