Joe OviedoWhen I built my first websites, getting someone to visit already felt like a small victory. At TurismoAlternativo, the idea was that someone could find a rafting outfitter in Mexico, see what they offered, and get in touch. I liked imagining everything the site might do: show prices, reserve a seat, take payment right there. Looking back, what strikes me is that the part I most enjoyed imagining began just after someone found what they were looking for.
At the time, I would have called the challenge building a website that worked. I’d put it differently now. If someone has found a place to go rafting but doesn’t know whether they can go this Saturday, whether they need experience, or whether there are two seats left, they still have work to do. I could picture the booking button clearly. It was harder to picture what that person needed to know before they felt ready to use it.
I didn’t make that distinction back then. I see it now, looking at very different projects that brought me back to the same question.
What the person already understands
On YouTube, someone might discover an expert by typing in a very specific question. They spend ten minutes watching, understand something they’ve been mulling over for days, and leave. From the business side, it’s tempting to ask how to get them to stay, subscribe, or leave their email. First, I want to know what the video helped them resolve. If they found the answer they were looking for, leaving might be exactly what needed to happen.
Someone else watches the same video and thinks, “Now I get why this happens. I still don’t know what to do in my case.” From the outside, both people did practically the same thing. They watched a video. But the second has a decision ahead of them. They might appreciate another explanation, an example closer to their situation, or a way to ask for help. The hard part isn’t putting three links under the video. It’s deciding which step would help and telling them what they’ll find if they take it.
That also helps me see when an invitation comes too soon. If I ask someone to book a call before they know what we’d talk about, I’m asking for half an hour so they can find out whether giving me half an hour was worth it. I’d probably close the tab. If I explain what we can look at together and what we won’t solve on the call, they can decide for themselves. They may decide against it. I’d rather have that than a booking from someone who arrives expecting something else.
Follow the path without opening the dashboard
When I review a customer journey, I like to start where the person arrived. I read the video title or the ad. I open the link on my phone. I try to understand the page without filling in what it doesn’t say from memory. It sounds simple until you notice how often you’re about to say, “Well, we explain that later.”
Sometimes the problem is a phrase. In the video we said, “We’ll review your proposal together.” On the page it says, “Strategic assessment.” I know those refer to the same session because I was part of both conversations. The person arriving from the video has no way to know. They may think they opened the wrong link. Other times the offer is perfectly clear, but the next step asks for information the person doesn’t have yet. A new headline won’t do much for them.
I wouldn’t assume that finding one of those things tells me why there are no sales. It gives me a specific place to look. I can ask someone what they understood, see whether they found what they wanted, and decide what to try before asking the whole team to rebuild the campaign. I’d rather leave that review with one question I can answer than twenty things that might be wrong.
Why I’m starting here
As I put these notes in order, I found the same question in places I hadn’t expected. In an email that needed to deliver something, not just confirm a signup. In a paid session that could show me what was worth turning into a course. In a video whose title promised something the team didn’t yet know how to deliver in the script. They’re different kinds of work. In all of them, it helps to stop and ask what the person knows so far and what they need to continue.
I still enjoy the more visible parts of the work: finding an idea for a channel, imagining a product, seeing a page start to get visits. But often the decision I’m most interested in comes a little later. Someone has arrived. They’ve given us their attention. They may even understand that we can help. What do they need to decide now, and what can we do so they don’t have to guess?
That’s the question I want to open the Journal with. Not because I have an answer that works everywhere, but because every time I ask it on a different project, I notice something I’d been taking for granted.
← Back to the Journal