I hope nobody feels I am being ungrateful by casting a critical eye over a gift as valuable as an invitation to Kiwi Foo Camp, a private gathering of some of the most interesting, driven, intelligent and friendly people you're ever likely to find in one place. It feels a little like being a guest in Auckland, and being asked "well, what do you think of our city?". You might venture platitudes about the nice weather, beach proximity and stunning gelato, but my god the traffic! How do you stand the mind boggling tedium... apologies, I digress. On the contrary, I was most surprised and grateful for my invitation (thanks Nat!), and offer this honest feedback in the hope that other attendees - and future first-timers - will learn something from it.

Luckily, I left the great Auckland why-the-hell-doesn't-somebody-fund-public-transport traffic jam behind as I road-tripped to Warkworth for a weekend of stimulation and good-natured mayhem. Foo starts only with the attendees - there are no "speakers" on Friday night when we arrive - but by Saturday morning, everyone had combined to fill the weekend with a broad array of sessions: poetry, software, law, science, even surviving the Zombie Apocalypse. Although I spent the morning running some 18 kilometers around the hills of Warkworth with a few others. That's the kind of gathering Foo is - if it sounds like fun, somebody makes it happen [1].

Foo advertises itself as a place where the attendees "network, share their works in progress, show off the latest tech toys and hardware hacks, and find new partners for collaboration". A noble statement, which we shall return to later. For now, perhaps a sample of the experience... somebody brought a working Tesla coil; others were pitching startup ideas; a meterological balloon was seen all over the place as the "Kiwifoo space programme" spied on proceedings from on high. A debate on Saturday night had everyone in stitches while we dealt out some medieval mob justice, and sessions were held on on all manner of topics from drugs to designing a container house. "Energising" doesn't even begin to describe it. There were times when if the Average Joe had walked in on us, things might have ended with a Dotcom-esque visit from the police. But among this group, Tesla coils, poetry and Zombie Apocalypses are viewed as "cool!" and/or "interesting!", which is exactly as they should be.

The sessions... well. This this the part where I tread carefully. Most of them really were fantastic, the calibre of the attendees saw to that. But I found that one or two of the discussion sessions were echo chambers, and in some, there was barely any listening. Someone would be talking, and others would be poised on the edge of their seats, busting for the current speaker to finish, so they could throw their opinion against the wall. In both cases, louder people tended to end up dominating the conversation, and I would come away from a session thinking that nobody had learned anything.

Still, many of the sessions were run most admirably [2], and others were saved. In the session on drugs in New Zealand, it was obvious quite early on that we were all in favour of at least decriminalising drug usage, if not blanket legalisation. Against this backdrop, the reactions to the recent law commission report were quite negative. "Drugs should be seen as a health issue..." yes, we all agree. It was only after someone started role-playing a rich, white, conservative parent that the room began to see that we should be more behind the report. It is a pathetically small step, but - we now realised - it's not an insignificant one. If its recommendations are adopted, we move the law in the right direction, and we can take up the conversation later from a higher position. After the session, I felt like we'd had a small success - now a room full of people were able to make a more informed judgement about something.

However, on reflection I realised that the sessions were merely appetisers for a deeper reason to come to Foo - to discover people worth knowing. In this respect, they did not need to solve a problem, or even be remotely productive - they merely provided a topic and a list of people to seek out for further discussion. The real value comes in the conversations afterward [3].

Returning to the Kiwi Foo advertisement, it's now possible to see why Foo is such a roaring success. What better way to find people worth knowing than to gather them together, give them permission to show and tell, let them talk about the things currently on their minds, and above all, keep them together? Providing all food at the venue is a masterstroke (and what excellent food it was), as is letting some of the attendees sleep on site. Conversations can go much further if you know your bed is just a door away.

The whole experience was a blast, and if you should be lucky enough to receive an invite, my advice is to accept it greedily. My final thought is this: If Foo is about discovering people worth knowing, then it would make sense to maintain a strong intake of new faces each year. I have no idea how Nat, Jenine and Russell could balance this with keeping the camp small enough to manage, but I envy their dilemma. There ain't no party like a Foo party.

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In response to a draft of this, John Hart pointed out a couple of ABC's that I neglected to mention, which first-timers will appreciate:

It's probably worth noting that an un-conference is nothing like any other traditional conference format - attendees should expect to be part of the content. It's not a place for passive consumers.

Complete participation is the best way to get a 2nd invite. Throwing yourself into the spirit of sharing (and especially hosting a session) will ensure you get the most out of the experience.

Thanks to John, Rob, Ben and Josh for reviewing this article.

[1]

Getting up before 7am after a night of revelry, being driven miles down the road and sent into the bush to run back, knowing that you have just as full a day of mind-expanding discussion and merriment as everybody else still ahead of you, might not sound like fun to most people. I guess we gluttons for punishment will either die out or inherit the earth. Draw your own conclusions about my attendance at the Zombie Apocalypse session.

[2]	One in particular, which was in my opinion a success against the odds, was the session on rebuilding Christchurch. There seemed to be more opinions than noses in the room, yet the discussion chairs listened, were engaged, and appeared to gain a lot from the participants.

[3]	Which makes me regret not suggesting a session on webapps: what's new, what's cool, where are they heading. Maybe another time.

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After two years where I was working on Get Your Game On largely alone, Martyn finally finished up at Catalyst a few weeks ago to work on it with me. One week later, we decided to give up.

On the surface, this sounds mad. Did Martyn throw in his job for nothing? Do we not have an ounce of intelligence between us? What happened to our big dream? As of a few months ago, we were still evangalising GYGO; we were even preparing to bring another co-founder on board. Now... it's over. The site lives on only to serve our customers while they decide what on earth to do, a conundrum I now share with them.

Some background. Martyn and I have shared a journey for a while now: can we use our skills to fashion a future where we no longer exchange hours for dollars? To me, this is a powerful form of freedom; while you can live in a free society and learn to think for yourself, not having to worry about money multiplies your options. It is the oxygen of modern society, and it seemed (note the past tense, I'll return to that later) to me that having piles of it would leave you free to make whatever kind of difference you wanted in the world.

GYGO failed not because the idea sucked, but because we didn't comprehend how hopeless the idea was for achieving this goal.

It's not that it would never work. We have two paying customers who love it (and so do _their_ customers - players etc.), a bunch of interest from others who run sports competitions, an existing market to resegment and the positioning to do it (all online, easy/professional system - as opposed to the free, ad-sponsored or windows-centric competition). What we don't have is $500K, and quite frankly, if I want to pop my angel investee cherry and throw away five years, there had better damn well be a $100mil company at the other end. The market for GYGO is far too niche for that.

Our mistake: we underestimated the work involved in beating Excel. Here's an example. In a kid's football league, a good team is scheduled to play a bad team, and the bad team defaults. This would normally count as a 3-0 victory to the good team, but they complain that "we would have beaten them by much more!". The solution? Count the game as a 7-0 win for the good team, but a 3-0 loss for the bad team. I know, I cried into my relational database too [1]. Then I added support for it, because massaging results is rife in social competitions. It's the kind of thing you do in excel simply by changing the number in a cell. Excel matches how most people think about data - hack and kludge until it says what they want. This is precisely why it's so hard to beat.

Perhaps if the real world was sane, we could have developed GYGO on the cheap, and turned it into a 4-5 person company doing $1mil turnover. That would have suited me fine - we could have automated it to the point where I was drawing a salary for doing nothing: mission accomplished. It seems obvious now that targetting SMBs would result in a massive support headache [2], which we couldn't spread over thousands of customers, and as you just heard, real world data laughs at your attempts to corral it. Large support costs, a small market and investment required are a fatal mix.

So, what next? I have no idea. Between this and general life upheaval, I'm not even sure that my goal of being free from money is a good one. I was just at the most excellent kiwifoo, and it's got me thinking again about New Zealand and earthquakes, and whether we couldn't prepare to save some lives. If Wellington was flattened, I'd love to be able to tweet from beneath a crushed building, and know that volunteers would see it and alert first responders who could dig me out. No money in it, but frankly right now, I'm not sure I give a shit about that.

---

Postscript: Reading through this again, it occurs to me that I didn't say anything positive about the experience. I don't regret a single day I spent doing it. I've learned a lot about business, relating to people, solving problems; I've joined twitter and absorbed heaps of great lessons from inspiring people via it; I felt what it was like to be wildly optimistic about the future; I gained heaps of life experience I never would have gained otherwise; made heaps of friends, and played a lot of football!

Yes, I do recommend you start your own business, especially if you have a skill and want more out of life. Treat it as an investment in yourself, and you won't be disappointed.

PPS: My largest regret is letting our customers down. They're fantastic people, and they struggle with high workloads and sometimes angry people so that our kids and community can have fun. They both took the news gracefully, and one of them even gave me a jigsaw puzzle as thanks. If I can give you one piece of advice, it would be to to always tell them the truth and work your ass off for your customers. It's not just good business sense - when they're trusting you, it's the right thing to do.

[1]	As Martyn dryly observed, we should have used MySQL.

[2]	I envy Xero, they have an army of accountants with a vested interest in supporting their userbase.

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Why is it so hard - technically - to have a realtime conversation with people all over the world?

"It's easy, just use Skype!". Not so fast. People need to install Skype - this is a task too hard for Grandma (unless you visit first and do it for her). And there's the whole contacts process. If you want to talk to me, we have to find each other and add contacts. After that, Skype will bother you when it's my birthday even though you only wanted to have one little chat. I could go on... [1]

"You're a geek, use IRC!". Of course, IRC is basically unusable by many people whom you'd like to talk to - some co-workers, your family, certainly not Grandma. At least there's no contacts to manage. But there's no audio/video, and you can't "drop in and out" of an ongoing conversation very smoothly - if you lose your connection to the chat, you lose the messages sent while you were gone [2].

"Use google chat/jabber!". Worst of both worlds. Low penetration, high complexity.

OK then, just use... hmm. Exactly.

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