Sometimes it makes sense to deny the profitability bias, the investor’s case of the Marshmallow Test, deferring the instant gratification of today to invest in defenses that promise even greater profits in the future.
Building those defenses is making investments in your competitive advantages, the bulwarks protecting your customers, your revenues, and your profits (current and future) against bigger-smarter-richer companies that want access to your market.
For the sake of simplicity, let’s say all competitive advantages fit under one of four umbrella categories: brand, legal protection, captive demand, and economies of scale.
For brand, just think Coke or Apple. These are the icons of their industry that have somehow (through tremendous investment in quality, consumer experience, and marketing over long periods of time) endeared themselves to their end-users in ways that I can only describe with the term “gestalt.” The whole is much greater than the sum of its parts.
The connection with customers transcends emotional. It seems almost spiritual. Or cultish, take your pick. For true Apple believers, you would have to pry their cold, dead fingers off a Mac keyboard before getting them to type a document on a PC. Steve Jobs’ crew delayed profits for years and years as Apple invested heavily in engineering, design, elegant software, and lots of advertising. The totality of those investments contributes to the end-user’s experience of buying and using Apple products in ways bigger than any of those investments considered individually.
Bigger-smarter-richer companies could not replicate Apple’s connection with customers.
For legal protection, think about pharmaceutical companies having patent protection over the molecular formulation of their drugs. For example, patents gave Pfizer years of exclusive rights to sell Lipitor to help American baby boomers reduce the amount of cholesterol floating in their arteries. It brought Pfizer as much as $13 billion of annual revenue at its peak, and plenty of profits to boot.
But let’s remind ourselves, those profits were the result of investments that lowered Pfizer’s overall profits for years before they peaked. The pharma giant invested hundreds of millions to develop the drug, patent it, win FDA approval to sell it, and then fight like crazy to defend and extend those patents.
We see the full impact of legal protection as a competitive advantage by watching what happened to Lipitor when its patents finally expired in November 2011. In about a month’s time, its market share was cut in half by generic competitors marching gladly past its now defunct bulwarks, selling their much cheaper alternatives to Lipitor patients eager for a lower pharmacy bill.
For captive demand, “sticky” has become the popular descriptive term to explain a service whose customers have a hard time putting it down once they start using it. Cigarettes come to mind, what with they being addictive and all. But my preferred example is the way banks have used online bill pay as a sticky feature that makes it an enormous pain to ever ditch your existing account for a competitor’s offer. Do you really want to trudge through the process of entering all your biller information, due dates, and payment schedules on another bank’s website? And for what? A free toaster with your new checking account? No thanks.
Finally, we have economies of scale, or just “scale” for short. The businesses best protected from bigger-smarter-richer companies have some combination of all four of the umbrella categories of competitive advantages. But the strongest have a healthy dose of scale, a trait that allows you to produce something for so much less than your competitors that the rational ones would see that it’s foolhardy to even attempt to compete with you and the fanatical ones – those that make an irrational decision to compete anyway – would run out of money before you.
We’ll dig more later on the benefits of scale…