The thing is, the site being mocked up may well be overkill. The client has no real background in Web design or site management, so the contractor will basically be perpetually on-call (read: “never-ending revenue stream”) for updates and modifications. The rich presentation layer sucks on mobile screens, at least so far in the prototyping process. And the complexity of the design work means that the business owner will never truly “own” his site, even if he wanted a different contractor to handle maintenance.

You know the saying: To a man with a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. Likewise with Web design: To a man with Illustrator, every problem looks like a CSS fix.

Thing is, a solid Web designer will function under the doctor’s dictum to first do no harm. That means that any site must be transparently manageable by someone other than the original developer. I’ve inherited enough messes from the graphic-design crowd to know that a graphically rich design takes time and money and, without documentation, is difficult to transition to someone else.

That’s why for almost all Web work, I think virtue rests in templating a CMS like WordPress instead of rolling a complex site from scratch using Dreamweaver, Illustrator, etc. Anyone with basic skills can modify and maintain a CMS. Not everyone can maintain a site based on 5,000 image layers.

The best design strategy puts the designers on the task of template construction, with the tech folks handling CMS deployment.

The right tool, then, is the one that gives the client the least risk of long-term headaches, long after the original development project has been final billed.

Check out my new six-page guide for details: Introduction to Statistical Reasoning. Click the title to download the PDF.

Have questions? I’m happy to help! Log a comment, send me a Tweet, drop me an email, make a phone call — always available to assist.

Yeah. They will. Which is why it’s so infuriating that so many high-profile online properties allow such subpar content to pass into production, such that the diamond of greatness really does lurk in a large and ever-growing pile of detritus.

Take Lifehacker. For every 20 articles I read, I find one article that’s genuinely interesting and useful and keeps me engaged through RSS. The other 19? Usually pedestrian, but sometimes, the content is infuriatingly absurd, like the articles about using lint rollers to pick up bugs, written with a breathless air of eagerness that suggests the writer is one cherry cordial short of Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates.

Or the blogs from folks like Seth Godin or Jeff Bullas, which are positioned as wise and insightful and industry-leading but usually just render the same generic crap with a “buy my book” call to action. How many times do we need blog posts about how to write copy that goes viral that says nothing even remotely substantive? Or posts about how to write a perfect Facebook post that merely regurgitate every other “blogging 101″ article on the Internet? Does anyone believe that vague platitudes really translate to superior content?

I don’t mean to rag on Godin, Bullas, Lifehacker or anyone else. They’re doing what they see fit, and they’ve clearly done something right that gets them wide exposure. Success is always a defense against methodological criticism.

The point, merely, is this: If it really is true that “content is king,” then why do so many persist in putting out substandard, generic, vapid content day after day after day? What’s the point, really, except perhaps a cynical manipulation of the law of large numbers?

The dirty secret is that the Grey Cardinal behind King Content’s throne is volume. You need to get stuff out there all the time. Not monthly, not weekly (like I do). You need to be out there daily. You need to promote. You need to have something up there all the time to retain and grow your mindshare. At least, you do if your whole goal is to be a national brand in your own right as some sort of Public Intellectual 2.0.

So given that push for volume, what’s a solo practitioner to do? You guessed it: Provide a steady stream of wise-sounding generalities that don’t really help much but nevertheless get their stuff in circulation with a minimum of prep time. It’s easier and faster to write coherent but vague platitudes than to research in-depth solutions to difficult questions that perplex intermediate- and advanced-practitioners within the industry. The time spent on self-promotion necessarily eats into the time available to really be an innovative thought leader.

An alternative strategy may work for a more typical enterprise. If you’re a plumber or a lawyer, for example, you’ll probably find that King Content is best served over the long haul, with fewer articles of greater depth and a slow-but-steady presence on Twitter, etc. The “hyperactive model” advocating daily engagement of something is self-serving insofar as the advocates of such a model must, by necessity, follow it; however, although some businesses benefit from that approach, many more will not.

Bottom line: The stuff you put on the Internet under your name should be your best work, presenting a novel perspective of insider information that others won’t easily find elsewhere. Never put a crown on your generic crap and call it good, simply for the sake of “being present.”

If content is truly king, don’t let yours be the monarch that others point to as having no clothes.

My take on this was somewhat less than favorable.

“Oh, really?” I answered. “Why is that?”

So after 20 minutes of give-and-take, the truth came out: He slotted me because he didn’t understand the scope of my operational focus.

As a good BNI Kool-Aid drinker, my friend believes in specialization. Person X does job Y, and colleague Z makes a good referral partner. Like cogs in an intricate gear, each practitioner serves a single and discrete purpose. Even the capital-P professions aren’t immune: A lawyer isn’t just a lawyer, he’s a real-estate guy or a tax guy or a criminal-defense guy.

My friend’s problem with my much more broad focus, though, was that the model doesn’t fit conventional wisdom. He asked — astutely — why someone should hire me, with my wide but not-very-deep professional profile, instead of someone very specifically focus on a clearly outlined purpose.

And all I can say is: Sometimes a jack of all trades is preferable to a master of one.

Put it in context. Let’s assume you’re a newly minted entrepreneur who saved up $50,000 to start his own business as a cabinet maker. You’ve built many different cabinets over the years and even did a couple of houses for a friend. But you’ve never run a business before.

Who do you call to get started on market development? Do you call the guy who runs the display-ad department at the local newspaper? Do you call the local printer? Do you call the lady who sells ads on the local cable system? Do you call the person who sells pens with custom logos?

Or do you call the guy who can shepherd the entire process — market segmentation, brand development, advertising ROI analysis, Web infrastructure, local marketing opportunities, non-ad market strategy — from start to finish?

Specialization works great with large budgets and managers who can juggle several different contractors simultaneously. But small-cap, small-size enterprises may find a better solution working with a single person who knows the lay of the land at a small-biz level. Someone who knows a bit of everything and knows when to subcontract, sparing his client the hassle of dealing with different folks with competing goals.

Specialization matters. But sometimes, a generalist is the right person for the job.

Work from Home

Working from home has its charms, especially if you prefer to spend your day in your pajamas. That said, although the convenience and potential tax implications are good, the home office suffers from access to things that will distract you — children, pets, laundry, the TV, look a butterfly …

And client meetings? You’ll probably have to limit yourself to Skype.

Coffee Shops

Road warriors love Starbucks, although a good locally owned shop with a laid-back staff can feel more comfortable. A java joint is good if you like coffee and pastries and need to get away from all other distractions. It’s bad if you spend so much time there that you become one of the regulars and spend half your time talking to the other regulars, thus eating into your productivity. Plus, there’s a minor point: A coffee shop is a place to visit and drink coffee or see friends, so it’s a bit rude to treat it like it’s your workplace … especially when everyone else gets the same bright idea.

Cigar Lounges or Bars

Many cigar lounges welcome occasional drop-in visits from customers who just want to spend a few hours with a stogie and a laptop. If your local cigar lounge maintains a bar exemption, you can even enjoy adult beverages while you work. Each lounge has its own culture and rules, but in general, lounge owners won’t hesitate to let folks come in, buy their product and bring in new customers. Plus, a lounge encourages discussion — leading, possibly, to serendipitous referrals. The major downside? The smoke.

Libraries

Many libraries are re-configuring themselves to serve as community working zones, with softer chairs, ample power outlets and even access to vending machines. For someone who needs to sit in silence, a library is as good as a church. But meetings? Talking? Dancing to loud music while you create? Not so much.

Co-Working Spaces

Larger cities now host at least one co-working space. These facilities — often converted warehouses or rehabbed industrial settings — feature open layouts, first-come conference rooms, kitchenettes and such. They frequently work on a tiered subscription model, so that you can pay for the use you get from the space. Co-working spaces bring very small businesses and entrepreneurs together, facilitating cross-collaboration and the trading of contact info and referrals. The downside is that some spaces can get pricey if you want to the facility to truly serve as a remote office.

Leased Offices

Commercial space gets expensive, but some landlords offer low-cost space in old buildings that’s ideal for artists, craftspersons and knowledge workers who care more about cost than quality. Old warehouses that are pending rehabilitation work great; a landlord will often parcel out space in a property that’s not ready for prime time but still meets code, and charge a substantial discount over “clean” and finished space elsewhere.

Other options for leased space include working with a dedicated office-space company that provides accommodations for individuals or small teams on a monthly rent package. These spaces usually come furnished and include amenities like a receptionist, Wi-Fi and a phone system. The rent premium might be higher than a traditional fixed office lease, but the administrative work of property management is managed by the company that actually owns the space.

The moral of the story: Every creator needs a space to work. Every space option involves a cost-benefit matrix. Pick the solution that’s best suited to maximizing your productivity, even if the solution tugs at your pocketbook. Your goal, after all, is to get things done.

• You get exposure as a writer, not just as a source of work product.
• You can associate yourself to your work product, helping (albeit marginally) with the assertion of IP rights to what you’ve written.
• You can increase your social reach provided you’re reasonably savvy about Plus.

The process for authenticating with Google Author seems straightforward: Log into your Plus account and simply enroll your publishing email address (particularly if your address is on the same domain as the site your work appears on — which should be the case for people who own and publish to their own domains) or insert a bit of code into your work to link back to your Google Plus profile.

Simple, convenient — especially for people who’ve already bought into Google’s authentication regime.

Of particular interest: Directly associating your ID with your work product, right when it’s released, helps protect any future claim you may make (especially with Google) about cases of copyright infringement.

Only takes a few minutes, and could have non-trivial rewards in the future.

Let’s also concede that nanny-state regulations (e.g., the requirement that cyclists must wear helmets and drivers must wear seat belts) cross the line. It’s one thing to draft rules that protect others from your behavior; it’s quite another to force you to be “safe” when no one else’s life or property are at stake.

In this context, risk — as managed by positive law — is managed by regulation so that everyone who participates in a system (like driving) is aware of the basic transactional rules and understands the consequences of violation. Regulation mitigates the risk that comes from chaos.

What do we make, then, of the grey area in the middle? The areas where risk is relative and the government either over- or under-regulates the context to the point that laws prove ineffective?

There’s ample pop-leadership literature about entrepreneurialism. You know the trope: Leaders take risks to achieve greater outcomes. Risk aversion is the hobgoblin of career middle-management bean counters.

But relative risk is a real thing, and an example that occurred to this writer last week reinforces the point.

Picture it: Caesar’s Palace, Las Vegas. I was in town for a mix of a business trip and a social outing. With a new friend from Texas, we decided to hit the penny slots — mostly to talk and enjoy a few comped cocktails. I slipped a C-note into one slot machine and, after a series of ups and downs, ended up with $80 remaining. We then moved to a different machine. I cashed out for $250.

Gamblers know that with penny slots, you can bet several different ways per spin. You pick “lines” — valid winning sequences on the display — and “credits” — how many pennies per line. Many modern slots feature bonus rounds, where you can earn larger payouts. On one such machine, I hit a lucrative bonus that included a multiplier based on the value of your bet. Fortunately for me, I was at max bet — $3.20 per spin. $3.20 multiplied by 100 is much better than the minimum bet, which would have netted me eight times less. Most penny-slot players don’t bet the maximum because the relative payback on slots is abysmal, with the house edge sometimes approaching 10 percent.

I gambled big on the penny slot because I had hit a royal flush at video poker the day before, good for $1,000. So in a sense, I was gambling with the casino’s money.

The point of all of this?

Early in my gambling session after I hit town, I hit the royal. I could have cashed out and pocketed my $1,000. I kept gambling, instead. By the time I left Las Vegas, I was still $200 richer than when I arrived, even after subtracting all my various expenses.

A risk-averse person might have kept the $1k and called it good, if he even had gambled at all. A risk junkie would have gambled through the $1,000 and probably had to make a few ATM trips, besides. But a balanced approach — using up the surplus to try to make more, than quitting at the break-even point — made sense to me. Not only did I make a bit of money, but I also earned a lot of tier credits with Caesar’s Entertainment — credits that will come back to me in the form of offers for free rooms or free slot credits.

Risk is a beautiful thing. We all have different levels of tolerance for it, and the state imperfectly regulates it. We must rely on ourselves to find the level of risk we’re comfortable with. Don’t let the “experts” fool you: There’s no virtue in irrational risk-taking, just as there’s no virtue in being overly cautious. The bold often win, but they often lose, too. And when they bet big, they can lose big.

When you’re faced with a grey-area risk, ask yourself:

• Do I have a plan if I succeed? If I fail? In other words: Do you fully grasp the consequences of every possible outcome?
• Can I afford to fail?
• Am I leaving myself an alternative if I do go all-in?
• Am I avoiding risk for purely psychological reasons (i.e., I’m comfortable in my current mediocrity)? Am I seeking it because I’m an adrenaline junky?

Smart risk management helps insulate you from the worst consequences of recklessness.

Consider: If you live a relaxed life, you have more energy to contribute to an initiative. If you’re constantly stressed, your energy capital is substantially smaller. Yet the experts suggest strategies that don’t really take your energy level into account. You get lots of tips for enhancing your productivity, but very little about structuring an execution strategy that recognizes the psychological contributors to success.

Let’s assume that you’ve done all the best-practice work of creating a bucket list (complete with sub-tasks!) as well as long-, medium- and short-term goals. Congratulations; you’ve make the first steps to living a more consciously fulfilled life. But the next question — How the heck to do I pull this off? — is really where the struggle lies.

Think of yourself as a double-stack of pennies. You have 100 cents of energy to expend on any given day; this energy reflects a combination of time and focus at your disposal. When you spend your last penny, you’re done. Time for bed.

Right off, you need to subtract pennies for basic life stuff: Eating, showering, domestic chores. Then pull off more for hobbies, socializing, work, family. Even more for exercise. Double the penny hit for high-stress situations, including among friends and family. How many pennies do you have left over?

Most people don’t have 100 pennies of energy to dedicate to initiatives. If they’re lucky, they might have 20. So don’t draft a plan that assumes you have more pennies to spend than you’ve got left in the pile. After all, the effort you put into those initiatives will take pennies, too.

Put differently, the more you’ve got on your plate (including, significantly, the stuff that may not take a lot of time but does take a lot of mental focus, like high-drama interpersonal relationships) the less flex you have to tackle a bunch of stuff in parallel.

If you have five major initiatives you’re working on, but not a lot of pennies left over, don’t try to work all five simultaneously. Even if you’ve broken them into otherwise manageable tasks. Your mind can only keep so many balls in the air at the same time; if you’re distracted with other things, then you’re going to start dropping some of those balls. As the balls fall, so also does motivation. Welcome to the vicious infinite regress.

Instead, work on one project at a time. Achieve your goals in series, not in parallel. It’s easier to give time to one big thing in an otherwise hectic life, than to try to do a whole bunch of little things that you can’t keep straight in your own mind.

Of course, if you have a serene life and plenty of pennies to work with, go for a parallel approach. More power to you.

But most people don’t have the capital, and no life hacking will fix that.

Have you protected yourself or your business with basic liability insurance?

Estimates and quotes will vary — they’re usually tied to claim histories, sales volume and relative risk — but a ballpark is $3 for every $1k in sales for general liability coverage.

Given the low cost for most business liability plans, it’s foolish to ignore insurance as a way of protecting your business from the costs associated with lawsuits.

Point taken.

Yet the article prompts a deeper insight. If we concede that most business leaders aren’t, in fact, idiots, then why do so many fail to see that today’s bandwagon will be tomorrow’s heartburn?

“Social enterprise” is but one example of business leaders of all stripes and sizes seeking to deploy a buzzword concept without really thinking through the details. The Big Dog companies are hardly the only ones who can’t see past the next dog’s tail; just recall how many social-media gurus insisted last year that You Must Be On Pinterest NOW!!! regardless of your company’s size or market.

(Can you imagine what the local plumber might pin? Geez.)

It’s natural to want to be ahead of the curve. Too often, though, being “ahead of the curve” consists in mimicking the generalized, abstract opinions of self-appointed experts who have a high Klout score.

To really leapfrog the competition, you need George H.W. Bush’s “vision thing.” You need to identify a real-world problem and arrive at a simple, elegant solution. You also need to treat with healthy disregard the conventional wisdom. Particularly with high-tech and corporate-consulting subjects, the conventional wisdom is frequently either wrong or biased.

You know how you know you don’t have the vision thing?

• You frequently use trendy industry buzzwords as if they represent something real and valuable. For example, social enterprise, big data and mobile.
• You circulate insipid articles from Inc. or Entrepreneur as if they validate your penetrating insight. Same with blog posts from ”thought leaders.”
• You believe that technology drives culture, the last several hundred thousand years of human evolution notwithstanding.
• You put your stock in an all-encompassing theoretical construct that you allege will radically transform the business/industry. For example, analytics.
• You inadvertently diminish the value of the “people” part of the “people, process, technology” triad.
• You actually believe in the “people, process, technology” triad. (See all-encompassing theoretical construct, above.)
• A year from now, your focus will be on something else entirely. Just like last year’s focus is now but a foggy memory.

Visionaries neither lead nor follow. Rather, they see the world as it is — divorced of hype and hope — and follow a path that, five years hence, will seem brilliant. Even if today, it doesn’t.