Banana Bread and Business Lessons

banana bread and business

I only had one more day before the extremely ripe bananas on my counter switched from banana-bread-perfect to trash-destined.

I didn’t have enough time to follow the step-by-step family recipe, which requires sifting, mashing, and multiple pieces of equipment. So, I threw off my blazer from a previous meeting and decided to make the world’s fastest banana bread batter. 

Usually, I involve my kids, a stand mixer, and enough other kitchen implements to fill a whole dishwasher. Today, I decided to cut every corner I could to save time (and ideally clean up). 

I quickly arranged my mise en place. “Let’s try to do this with just one bowl and the immersion blender/hand mixer,” I thought. There was no need for a silly apron—this wouldn’t make a mess. 

The surprisingly prescient version of me had the forethought to set out butter and eggs this morning to come to room temperature, so I already saved a step in bringing the butter to the right softness (always cheating on that one). “Already ahead of the game,” I thought smugly.

Step One. Cream the butter and sugar. 

I set up the immersion blender and its mixer attachment with confidence. I did not realize it only had two speeds, but they are fast and VERY FAST. I immediately hit the VERY FAST speed, and sugar and butter flew. My dog thought it was snowing. 

“Bad idea…maybe I needed the actual immersion attachment for this part,” I wondered. 

The immersion attachment gathered as much soft butter as it could behind its blades. I risked life and digit to pick it out before thinking, for the first time, that this shortcut route would not necessarily work the way I imagined. 

I switched back to the mixer attachment and attempted a pulsing tactic to marry the sugar and butter, standing back as far as I could to keep my work pants away from the sugary dairy’s shrapnel. 

Finally, the mush came together, and I was back on track. 

Step Two. Smash the bananas, and add them with eggs and vanilla to the mixture. 

I wised up this time and determined my bananas did indeed need some smashing so the mixer wouldn’t win this round. A few good smooshes and egg cracks later, plus the requisite dash of vanilla, and the mixer fulfilled its obligation without complaint. 

By this time, I was already 25 minutes deep into a project that usually takes 25 when I follow the steps accordingly and use my hands-free mixer. 

Steps Three (and Four and Five): Sift the flour and combine it with baking soda and salt. Measure out the buttermilk. Alternately, add the buttermilk and flour mixture to the batter. 

“I think I will add it all at once—forget sifting or alternating. I have lost too much time already,” I decided. 

Suddenly, I realized my bowl was too small for the job. I turned on my wily electric whisk, which incited a whirlpool of batter that flew out of the top of the bowl and onto every surface within a five-foot radius. 

Committed to the moment, I wiped the batter off my dress pants, making a mental note to douse them with spray-n-wash. Then, I coerced the mixture into behaving. This took a series of slow pulsing, tamping down with my spatula, and sheer willpower. 

Finally, after several rounds of mixing, the mixture was “good enough” to pour into the pan. I spooned it in and popped it in the oven. Then, I took to the kitchen with Clorox wipes and laughed out loud about how self-assured and wrong I was. 

And then the metaphor clicked. 

There is a reason why recipes, instructions, and best business practices exist. These tried-and-true methods produce consistent results, where accuracy and a positive solution are the goal. However, they are not usually designed to get to the end as quickly as possible—quality matters. 

During sales conversations, we frequently explain the method or “recipe” for achieving the desired result. We don’t mind this exercise. In the same way that I trust my doctor to explain how they will treat my ailment, I hope I can explain it to my prospective client. 

But, sometimes, the prospective client is more interested in a shortcut. 

Can we skip the messaging and positioning? Do you have to go through a discovery process before you start writing for our brand?

These are questions we have heard before and understand the thought behind them.

But… 

When the timer goes off, and my banana bread is ready, I am sure it will look like banana bread. It might even taste like it. But I know it will not be as delicious as it should be. It might not rise properly and may have a strange flavor. I surely won’t be proud of it or give it to someone else as a treat. 

In the same way, we ask our clients to trust that the process we have created is designed to achieve the absolute best possible result. When I follow the steps of my banana bread recipe precisely as directed, I know it will be fantastic. I want it to be fantastic for you, too. 

Don’t take shortcuts where it matters, in baking or in business.

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