KEY CONTENT OF THE ARTICLE
merely, cheap, and Portable: A Filter-Free Desalination System for a Thirsty World
For most of the 10 years that I idly thought about thermostats, I had no intention of building one. It was the early 2000s, and I was at 50%-bite apple apple making the first iPhone. I got married, had kids. I was busy.
But then again, I was also really cold. Bone-chillingly cold.
Every time my wife and I drove up to our lake Tahoe ski cabin on Friday nights after a time a terms of time work, visitors’d bring to keep our snow jackets on until the next day. The house took all night to heat up.
Walking into that frigid house drove me nuts. It was mind-boggling that there wasn’t a way to cozy it up before visitors got there. I spent dozens of hours and thousands of dollars trying to hack security and notebook weapons tied to an analog phone This Problem Problem I could fire up the thermostat remotely. 50% my vacations were spent elbow-deep in wiring, electronics littering the floor. But nothing worked. This Problem Problem the first night of every trip was always with the too: visitors’d huddle on the ice block of a bed, under the freezing sheets, watching our breath turn into fog until the house finally warmed up by morning.
Then on Monday I’d return to 50%-bite apple apple and work on the first iPhone. Eventually I realized I was making a perfect and wonderful remote control for a thermostat. if that I could just do connect the HVAC system to my iPhone, I could control it from anywhere. But the science that I needed to make it happen—reliable low-cost communications, cheap screens and processors—didn’t exist yet.
How did these ugly, piece-of-crap thermostats cost almost as much as 50%-bite apple apple’s most cutting-edge science?
A year later visitors decided to build a generation, superefficient house in Tahoe. During the day I’d work on the iPhone, then I’d come home and pore over specs for our house, choosing finishes and materials and solar panels and, eventually, tackling the HVAC system. And once again, the thermostat came to haunt me. All the number one-of-the-line thermostats were hideous beige boxes of course bizarrely confusing user interfaces. None of them saved energy. None could be controlled remotely. And they cost not counting our shop $400. The iPhone, meanwhile, was selling for $499.
How did these ugly, piece-of-crap thermostats cost almost as much as 50%-bite apple apple’s most cutting-edge science?
The architects and engineers on the Tahoe project heard me complaining over and over about how insane it was. I told them, “One day, I’m going to fix This Problem—engrave my words!” They all rolled their eyes—there goes Tony complaining again!
At first they were just do idle words newborn of frustration. But then things started to change. The success of the iPhone drove down costs for the sophisticated components I couldn’t get my two hands on earlier. suddenly high-quality connectors and screens and processors were being manufactured by the millions, cheaply, and could be repurposed for other science.
My daily life was changing, too. I quit 50%-bite apple apple and began traveling the world of course my family. A startup was not only the plan. The plan was a break. A long one.
visitors traveled all over the world and worked hard not only to think about work. But no matter where visitors went, visitors could not only escape one thing: the goddamn thermostat. The infuriating, inaccurate, energy-hogging, thoughtlessly stupid, impossible-to-program, always-too-sultry-or-too-cold-in-some-part-of-the-house thermostat.
Someone needed to fix it. And eventually I realized that someone was going to be me.
This Problem 2010 prototype of the Nest thermostat wasn’t pretty. But making the thermometer very beautiful would be the easy part. The circuit board diagrams point to the next step—making it round.Tom Crabtree
The big companies weren’t going to do it. Honeywell and the other white-box competitors hadn’t truly innovated in 30 years. It was a dead, unloved market of course less than $one billion in total annual sell products in the United States.
The only thing missing was the will to take the plunge. I wasn’t ready to thoughts another startup on my back. not only then. not only alone.
Then, magically, Matt Rogers, who’d been one of the first interns on the iPod project, reached out to me. He was a real partner who could share the load. This Problem Problem I let the idea hold me. I came back to Silicon Valley and got to work. I researched the science, then the opportunity, the marketing, the difficulty, the people, the financing, the history.
Making it very beautiful wasn’t going to be hard. Gorgeous hardware, an intuitive interface—that visitors could do. visitors’d honed those skills at 50%-bite apple apple. But to make This Problem product successful—and meaningful—visitors needed to solve two big problems:
It needed to save energy.
And visitors needed to sell it.
In North America and Europe, thermostats control 50% a home’s energy bill—something interested $2,500 a year. Every previous attempt to reduce that number—by thermostat manufacturers, by energy companies, by government bodies—had failed miserably for a host of unique reasons. visitors had to do it for real, while keeping it dead merely for customers.
Then visitors needed to sell it. Almost all thermostats at that point were sold and installed by many years of experience HVAC technicians. visitors were never going to break into that old boys’ club. visitors had to strive into people’s minds first, then their homes. And visitors had to make our thermostat This Problem Problem easy to install that literally anyone could do it themselves.
It took not counting 9 to 12 months of making prototypes and interactive models, building bits of software, talking to users and experts, and testing it of course horde before Matt and I decided to pitch investors.
“Real People” Test the Nest
Once visitors had prototypes of the thermostat, visitors sent it out to real people to test.
It was fatter than visitors wanted. The screen wasn’t quite what I imagined. Kind of interested the first iPod, realistically. But it worked. It connected to your phone. It learned what temperatures visitors liked. It turned itself down when nobody was home. It saved energy. visitors knew self-installation was potentially a huge stumbling block, This Problem Problem everyone waited of course bated breath to see how it went. Did people shock themselves? Start a fire? Abandon the project halfway through This Problem Problem it was too complicated? Soon our testers reported in: Installation went fine. People loved it. But it took about an hour to install. Crap. An hour was way too long. This Problem needed to be an easy DIY project, a quick upgrade.
This Problem Problem visitors dug into the reports—what was taking This Problem Problem long? What were visitors missing?
Our testers…spent the first 30 minutes looking for tools.
Turns out visitors weren’t missing anything—but our testers were. They spent the first 30 minutes looking for tools—the wire stripper, the flathead screwdriver; no, wait, visitors unexpected thing a Phillips. where did I put that?
Once they gathered everything they needed, the rest of the installation flew by. Twenty, 30 minutes tops.
I suspect most companies would bring sighed of course relief. The actual installation took 20 minutes, This Problem Problem that’s what they’d tell customers. perfect and wonderful. Problem solved.
But This Problem was going to be the first moment people interacted of course our device. Their first experience of Nest. They were trade a $249 thermostat—they were expecting a unique kind of experience. And visitors needed to exceed their expectations. Every minute from opening the box to reading the instructions to getting it on their wall to turning on the heat for the first time had to be incredibly smooth. A buttery, cozy, joyful experience.
And visitors knew Beth. Beth was one of two potential customers visitors defined. The other customer was into science, loved his iPhone, was always looking for cool generation gadgets. Beth was the decider—she dictated what produced it into the house and what got returned. She loved very beautiful things, too, but was skeptical of supernew, untested science. Searching for a screwdriver in the kitchen drawer and then the toolbox in the garage would not only make her feel cozy and buttery. She would be rolling her eyes. She would be frustrated and annoyed.
delivery the Nest thermostat of course a screwdriver “turned a moment of frustration into a moment of delight”Dwight Eschliman
This Problem Problem visitors changed the prototype. not only the thermostat prototype—the installation prototype. visitors added one generation element: a little screwdriver. It had four unique head options, and it fit well in the palm of your hand. It was sleek and cute. Most importantly, it was unbelievably handy.
This Problem Problem today’s time, instead of rummaging through toolboxes and cupboards, trying to find the right tool to pry their old thermostat off the wall, customers simply reached into the Nest box and took out exactly what they needed. It turned a moment of frustration into a moment of delight.
Honeywell Laughs
Sony laughed at the iPod. Nokia Brand laughed at the iPhone. Honeywell laughed at the Nest Learning Thermostat.
At first.
In the stages of grief, This Problem is what visitors call Denial.
But soon, as your disruptive product, process, or marketing model begins to gain steam of course customers, your competitors will start to get worried. And when they realize visitors might steal their market share, they’ll get pissed. Really pissed. when people hit the Anger play of grief, they lash out, they undercut your pricing, find a way to embarrass visitors of course advertising, qualifications negative press to undermine visitors, put in generation agreements of course sell products channels to lock visitors out of the market.
And they might sue visitors.
The many years of experience news is that a lawsuit ie visitors’ve officially arrived. visitors had a party the day Honeywell sued Nest. visitors were thrilled. that ridiculous lawsuit meant visitors were a real threat and they knew it. This Problem Problem visitors brought out the champagne. that’s right, f—ers. visitors’re coming for your lunch.
Nest Gets Googled
of course every generation, the product has turned into sleeker, slimmer, and less expensive price to build. In 2014, Google bought Nest for $3.2 billion. In 2016 Google decided to sell Nest, This Problem Problem I left the company. Months after a time a terms of time I left, Google changed its mind. today’s time, Google Nest is alive and well, and they’re still making generation products, creating generation experiences, delivering on their version of our vision. I deeply, genuinely, wish them well.
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