Prologue
Thirty Years of Transformation

I’ve been working on this book since I was nine years old. Allow me to share a little with you about how I got from there to here. My story is the story of a Transformational Consumer. It’s also the story of why this book and the Transformational Consumer insights framework at its center both exist.

In my ninth year, my parents owned a racquet club and gym, where I spent a couple of days a week doing step aerobics with a room full of middle-age women, clad (them, not me) in leotards, tights, leg warmers, and high-top Reeboks. I’d watch them cycle in and out, noting which ones showed up all the time and who struggled to keep coming. I listened to them talk about their diets, their clothes, their instructors, even the gym itself with fondness and excitement—especially those who felt like this routine was helping them lose weight.

Even back then, I was fascinated to watch people fall off and hop back on the wagon, to see how they would create little fitness tribes with the people they saw every day at the club. I was mesmerized by the waves of people in and out of this business, which was holding this precious space for their health and, in many respects, their happiness, their energy, and their power to move, live, and be who they wanted to be.

When I was 14, I fi rst read Quantum Healing, by Deepak Chopra. I became obsessed with two concepts in the book. Th e first is that every single cell in our entire bodies is reborn every seven years, giving our bodies an immense capacity for healing. The second is that our mindset and thinking could impact our physical state. This blew my entire mind. I had a number of family members who were ill and dying, at the time, of high blood pressure, heart disease, and diabetes. If this book was right, it seemed, people had great power to change the course of their physical health for the better, if only they could get a handle on their minds and their be hav ior.

A couple of years later, my life took a little detour, as lives do. I got pregnant, married, and graduated from high school a year early, in that order. I started college at age 16, had my son during winter break of my freshman year, and went back to class. Through a series of miracles, I got scholarships, graduated, and earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in psychology, before moving a few hours north of my hometown to go to law school at UC Berkeley. This move happened the same summer I lost 60 pounds, got certified as a personal trainer, and got out of a bad marriage.

I put myself through law school as a personal trainer. Aft er graduating, I practiced the law for a couple of years, representing people who had been sued civilly and charged criminally for the same conduct. Ultimately, I ended up representing a few bad-apple real estate agents whose disturbingly lackadaisical approach to their clients’ transactions, fl exible lifestyles, and income (much more than mine) inspired me to make a career change. “I can do this better,” I thought.

So I got a real estate broker’s license, quit my lawyer job, and hung out my shingle in the field of Bay Area real estate, right around the peak of the market in 2005. I represented a bunch of people just like me: smart, young professionals, buying their first homes. (I’d bought mine right aft er graduation.) These people researched everything. But they were often very intimidated by the prospect of jumping into the insane market climate of overbidding and over-asking off ers.

Sitting with my buyer clients in the car, I spotted a lot of patterns in what people wanted out of their transactions. They didn’t want houses. Th ey wanted lifestyle design. They were looking to this single-largest purchase they had ever made to change their lives, careers, businesses, fi nances, and even their relationships with their kids, partners, and parents, for the better.

But I also watched and wrestled with a handful of my first few home-buyer clients as they made decisions I believed pulled against the direction of their original vision. I asked some agents in my office how I could help manage the emotions and decision traps I saw clients falling into over and over again. Their reply? “Let the market educate your clients.” Meaning: let them lose the houses they love, and they’ll get beaten down. Then, they’ll take your advice.

I rejected this. Using what I knew how to do, I sat down and created a curriculum for home buyers and required every single person or couple who wanted me to show them houses to sit down and go over it with me in the coffee shop or at my office before we ever even got in the car.

The curriculum was essentially a flowchart on which the first event was the initial coffee-shop meeting and the last event was move-in. But then I annotated it heavily, going beyond the standard “how-to,” wrapping in “what to expect” and “mindset management.”

And things changed, fast. My clients went from making six or seven offers before they’d get a home to making two or three. I even had a client report that she started to freak out at one point, pulled out the chart, remembered that I’d told her she would freak out the night she signed a particular document, and went back to bed.

I turned that flowchart into a seminar, and then I wrote it up into a book, which I self-published. I like to say that I sold ten books, but the tenth was a big sale—to HGTV.

One of the found ers of HGTV, a brilliant gent named Channing Dawson, had found my book and called me up asking if the company could license the book as seed content for a digital real estate site it was starting up. Of course, I said yes. And in the same deal, HGTV hired me as a digital-content marketing con sultant, with my first project being to break down my 400page book into hundreds of web articles, several video webisode series (starring me), and PR campaigns.

For the next three years, I had a contract with HGTV, in which I made more money the more traffic I could drive to its website. (This was helpful, as the real estate market was starting to crash, and I needed the income.) The levers I could pull to increase site traffic were few: a spokesperson (me), HGTV’s media training, its PR team, and any sort of content I could think to create.

This consulting gig became an intensive real-time adventure in using content marketing to drive digital business results, before the phrase “content marketing” really even existed. I would put together lists of tips, search trends, cities lists, and answers to questions I was hearing a lot from my buyer clients or visitors to the HGTV site. I’d give the tips out on our site and on TV, pitch them to the big Internet portals like AOL and Yahoo!, and place them on blogs and other media outlets.

And we got it down to a science. I’d fl y to New York every quarter, get up at three a.m. to do an early-morning satellite media tour, do a couple of spots on morning prime-time shows like Good Morning America, and then go pitch magazine editors to feature our content. We built relationships with producers and editors, who were thrilled with my fancy credentials and what they called my yoga-teacher demeanor. Viewers wrote in to us, telling us how much better they felt when I’d been on the air, even though I didn’t always have the best news to give about the tumbling real estate market.

Every time I went on TV, the site hit rec ord traffi c.

Spotting patterns in what people wanted in their lives and their obstacles, then serving them how-to, what-to-expect, and mindset-management content just plain worked.

Soon, I was offered an in-house marketing role at Trulia.com, a real estate search engine and competitor of HGTV’s site, managing consumer content, marketing, and PR and serving as the company’s spokesperson. We developed a whole program out of engaging users on the company’s products with content, helping them save, invest, spend less, and make wise real estate decisions. We created recurring PR campaigns featuring the company’s data and spokespeople that routinely earned coverage in hundreds of media outlets and brought over 11 million people to the most trafficked single-author real estate blog ever.

I left Trulia to work at a boutique tech PR agency in San Francisco, as the VP of digital and content. I launched brand-new products outside of real estate with these strategies. And they still worked. They worked in mobile security. They worked in cosmetics. They worked on all kinds of apps. They worked with digital textbooks. They worked when I was the spokesperson and when I wasn’t. I left the agency to start my own company doing the same work, but I wanted to focus on companies that were doing work that would change people’s lives for the better. And I had the best clients ever. ModCloth. Eventbrite. I continued to work with Trulia, but as my client instead of as my employer.

And then one day I got a call from MyFitnessPal, the world’s largest fi tness app. The company was then eight years old and had 45 million users. After working with the company as a con sultant, I ended up staying on as its first and only VP of marketing.

Over the next 18 months, I built a marketing team that would use customer research, digital marketing, and content to help the company double to over 100 million customers and increase customer engagement by 22%. We went from raising an $18 million Series A investment round when I fi rst arrived to selling the company to Under Armour for $475 million, in less than two years.

In an age when disengagement was rampant and many people were saying that email is dead, here are a few Tweets we received in the early days of the MyFitnessPal content program:

“Whoever does the newsletter at @MyFitnessPal, you’re awesome. #fitnessmotivation”

“@MyFitnessPal Just wanted to say how much I love your blog. Every article is relevant to me and an interesting read. Very well done.”

“@MyFitnessPal love your newsletters very interesting articles . . . keep them coming! :D”

This was not an isolated occurrence. I used to keep a massive file of the exact same sorts of notes while I was working on the content programming at Trulia. One I remember by heart. It was an email that started out, verbatim, “Your newsletter just saved my marriage.” Now, I can’t tell you what was going on in that marriage. But I can tell you that it was clear the content was connecting with people and their real issues, their real journeys. They cared about it enough to open it, click on it, read it, and rave about it.

What I’ve seen, time after time, is that billions of people worldwide are coming to the marketplace specifically looking for the products and services and brands that can help them live healthier, wealthier, and wiser lives. I’ve seen that they become deeply devoted, repeat customers of the companies that help them do this more effectively, easily, beautifully, or joyously than they could do it on their own.

After a decade of spotting these patterns and helping companies create thriving businesses from this point of view, I created a new consumer insights framework for helping companies spot opportunities for innovation, drive customer loyalty, and build beloved brands and content that people care about. I started to speak and write about my fi rsthand observations that the companies that grow and win in this era of social media and content marketing are not the companies that focus on boomers, moms, or millennials. They are the companies that focus on serving a massive, rapidly growing customer segment I call Transformational Consumers and unlocking pro gress along their journeys to live healthier, wealthier, and wiser lives.

If you’re looking for the lever to pull to get your company growing, winning, and out of the tired old story of disengaged customers and employees, you are in the right place. Serving the Transformational Consumer is that lever. But it doesn’t just help you escape that old narrative. It also unlocks the possibility for a transcendent new story: the story of a wild, lifelong love affair with your customers.