Adaptation: The Happy Accident
One of the strange
paradoxes of scientific discovery is that no matter how plodding and
careful science is about most developments, some of the most astounding
discoveries have occurred purely by accident. The most famous of these was
the discovery of penicillin.
This discovery only occurred because biologist Alexander Fleming took a
vacation. Returning to find that his staph bacteria petri dishes were
contaminated with an invasive fungus, he observed that the fungus had
repelled and killed the bacteria. The age of antibiotics was born.
Dozens more examples demonstrate that the happy accident is one of the most
valuable resources in human development. One of the earliest known examples
occurred when, for better or worse, some Chinese experimenters looking for
the elixir of eternal life accidentally discovered gun powder, instead.
In 1938, a du Pont chemist discovered that his experimental gas had escaped
its container and that a strange slippery substance was left behind. Teflon
was born. Much earlier, an English pharmacist withdrew a stirring rod from
his chemicals only to notice a dried clump of hard material stuck to the
end of it. In trying to scrape it off, it ignited and burst into flame. The
strikable match was the result. Velcro was invented by a Swiss engineer
intrigued by how burrs stuck to his dog's coat. The implantable heart
pacemaker was stumbled upon when an assistant professor accidentally
grabbed the wrong size resistor from a box.
These examples are only a few of the many wonderful discoveries that have
graced the world by a scientific accident. Their value is immense, and the
world has grown richer by their discovery only through the adaptability of
those who discovered them. In many cases, something else was the target
goal at the time. Their discovery was an unanticipated byproduct born of
the flexibility of the discoverer.
In business, it pays hefty dividends to be flexible enough to adapt to new
developments and to make use of unexpected benefits. As the maker of a
fairly unsuccessful wallpaper cleaner, Kutol Products was near bankruptcy
when children began using the product to form Christmas tree ornaments in
arts and crafts projects. The entrepreneurs were clever enough to see this
unexpected use as a gift, and the company was saved by the new marketing of
the modified product as Play-Doh.
A similar story is told of the development of another novelty toy, Silly
Putty. In 1943, a World War II rubber shortage prompted the government to
commission research from General Electric chemists for the creation of an
alternative. The resulting elastic compound was ineffective at replacing
rubber, but it was intriguing nevertheless. Samples were circulated, but
until an enterprising toy store entrepreneur named Ruth Fallgatter saw the
stuff in 1949, no one had any use for it. Fallgatter saw some potential and
hired copywriter Peter Hodgson to include the item in her seasonal
catalogue. While it outsold everything else in the catalogue, for some
reason she lost interest and abandoned the substance.
Hodgson, however, had a clearer vision of its potential and picked up the
entrepreneurial torch, renaming the product Silly Putty. It took some time,
but his ability to adapt paid off. A New York Times columnist mentioned it
in a very positive light, after which sales topped $750,000 in the next
three days.
Speaking of gummy substances, we have alluded to the 29-year-old William
Wrigley who decided to offer free baking powder as an incentive to market
his scouring soap. The idea was so good that the powder became more popular
than the soap. So, he offered free chewing gum to market the powder, and
the gum became more popular still. Thus was born the Wrigley chewing gum
empire, from humble beginnings in soap and baking powder.
Like William Wrigley, Peter Hodgson, and the brighter minds at Play-Doh's
Kutol Products, always remain alert to the potential for happy accidents
and adapting to situations and possibilities.
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