Street Credibility Quotes

The road to profitability is paved with credibility. Credibility is something you earn by how you market, where you market, how you treat people, how you act, and your overall level of professionalism. Away from the business arena, the term is street cred, and it's the road to respect.

The Fed has gone about as if the problem is a shortage of liquidity. That is not the basic problem. The basic problem for the markets is that uncertainty that the balance sheets of financial firms are credible. -Anna J. Schwartz interviewed in the Wall Street Journal, October 18-19, 2008.

Financial Times commentator Martin Wolf concluded in 2010: "We already know that the earthquake of the past few years has damaged Western economies, while leaving those of emerging countries, particularly Asia, standing. It has also destroyed Western prestige. The West has dominated the world economically and intellectually for at least two centuries. That epoch is now over. Hitherto, the rulers of emerging countries disliked the West's pretensions, but respected its competence. This is true no longer. Never again will the West have the sole word." I was reminded of the Asian financial crisis in 1997. When Asian economies were devastated by similarly foolish borrowing the West – including the International Monetary Fund and World Bank – prescribed bitter medicine. They extolled traditional free market principles: Asia should raise interest rates to support sagging currencies, while state spending, debt, subsidies should be cut drastically. Banks and companies in trouble should be left to fail, there should be no bail-outs. South Korea, Thailand, Indonesia were pressured into swallowing the bitter medicine. President Suharto paid the ultimate price: he was forced to resign. Anger against the IMF was widespread. I was in Los Angeles for a seminar organised by the Claremont McKenna College to discuss, among other things, the Asian crisis. The Thai speaker resorted to profanity: F-- the IMF, he screamed. The Asian press was blamed by some Western academics. If we had the kind of press freedoms the West enjoyed, we could have flagged the danger before the crisis hit. Western credibility was torn to shreds when the financial tsunami struck Wall Street. Shamelessly abandoning the policy prescriptions they imposed on Asia, they decided their banks and companies like General Motors were too big to fail. How many Asian countries could have been spared severe pain if they had ignored the IMF? How vain was their criticism of the Asian press, for the almost unfettered press freedoms the West enjoyed had failed to prevent catastrophe.

Images such as these familiar ones (I mean to suggest) build up an imaginary country in which the story becomes credible; we recognize it as the particular country of our imagination where people would act as they do in the story, would do the deed they do. And the largeness of the images makes it a country wide enough so that the victim could escape, if he chose; like Achilles. But it is the rhythmic power of the dancing, of the dance scenes, that turns the pantomime quality of a gesture into an emblem, into an image with all its own country all around it.

The next morning, readers of The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal opened their papers to see a full-page ad paid for by the Cato Institute, the think tank that Charles Koch had founded and on whose board David Koch sat. The ad directly challenged Obama’s credibility.

When my friends suggested that we approach a rich man for patronage, explaining, "Today we need him, later when we are established you can change the pattern. We need publicity, credibility and money. Where else will it come from?" I rejected the advice outright, saying what I have never stopped repeating since, "I will not join the social welfare club. I need no false support, no whitewash and no publicity. I'll build credibility, I'll earn money, I'll labour. I'll live the real thing. For that I need the people, those who need my help. Nothing is for free, everything has a price. I will pay them, they will pay me. The people will create their own welfare service, I will help them create it. From here we go alone. There shall be no pillar to lean on. We shall build supports from within. No compromise shall dilute and plague my work. We will begin from the street, from the beginning, not the top, not the middle, but the very bottom.

While most of the public evidently considers doctors to be “very credible” sources of nutrition information,7 six out of seven graduating doctors surveyed felt physicians were inadequately trained to counsel patients about their diets.8 One study found that people off the street sometimes know more about basic nutrition than their doctors, concluding “physicians should be more knowledgeable about nutrition than their patients, but these results suggest that this is not necessarily true.

Apollo was having a difficult time finding candidates for the top spot, and Frissora would have had a hard time finding any job at any other public company. In September 2014, he had left as CEO at Hertz Global citing “personal reasons.” In fact, Hertz was in the middle of a massive accounting scandal where the rental car and equipment company was facing accusations of inflating profits. Carl Icahn had taken a near 10 percent stake and was making noise. Another hedge fund said Frissora had “lost all credibility.” To his surprise, Frissora got a call from an executive search firm just two weeks after leaving Hertz. They asked if he had interest in the Caesars job. He met with Rowan, Sambur, and Bonderman. Apollo claimed it would be a brief six-month bankruptcy, and the job would be fun. Frissora had been the CEO of two public companies, Hertz and auto parts maker Tenneco, and was new to gaming. But Hertz had gone private in a $15 billion LBO in 2006, so he had experience working with private equity. Until the accounting scandal, Hertz had prospered under Frissora. Rowan and Sambur were hoping an experienced operator could impose business discipline they believed Loveman had not.

I feel such stillness, the stillness of listening to a story whose end I know. I am looking at times when people had a story to enact and the streets they walked upon were narrative passages. What kind of word is infrastructure? It is a word that proves we have lost our city. Our streets are for transit. Our stories are disassembled, the skyscrapers crowding us scoff at the idea of a credible culture.

If smugglers are crossing your borders with impunity, if hackers seem to be able to make sport of your critical systems without trouble, if gangs are brawling and killing in your streets without fear, then how credible does your state appear, and how likely is it that people will start looking for alternative, radical solutions to their worries?

had brought Stalin credibility and influence, in the counsels of governments and on the streets.

Undoubtedly, Icahn is blessed with a superior mind, but it is his determination to play an activist role in his business deals, to keep finding solutions to a maze of problems, that separates him from the run-of-the-mill Wall Street opportunists who are quick to write off problem deals and move on to the next. Starting with his earliest campaigns, Icahn would build his reputation, and his all-important credibility, by refusing to retreat no matter how bleak the picture or how much the deck was stacked against him.

Survival on the streets required that you be respected and a large part of that street credibility was based upon the perception that you were capable of bringing sudden violence or death upon a rival without hesitation or remorse.

wandered through Stratford, waiting to hear back. The main downtown area was small and pedestrian, centered on the local tourist industry. Most of the buildings were in the half-timbered Tudor style, lending an air of Renaissance authenticity to the town. Quaint street signs helpfully funneled bumbling tourists toward the attractions: “Shakespeare’s Birthplace” or “Holy Trinity Church and Shakespeare’s Grave.” On High Street, I passed the Hathaway Tea Rooms and a pub called the Garrick Inn. Farther along, a greasy-looking cafe called the Food of Love, a cutesy name taken from Twelfth Night (“ If music be the food of love, play on”). The town was Elizabethan kitsch—plus souvenir shops, a Subway, a Starbucks, a cluster of high-end boutiques catering to moneyed out-of-towners, more souvenir shops. Shakespeare’s face was everywhere, staring down from signs and storefronts like a benevolent big brother. The entrance to the “Old Bank estab. 1810” was gilded ornately with an image of Shakespeare holding a quill, as though he functioned as a guarantee of the bank’s credibility. Confusingly, there were several Harry Potter–themed shops (House of Spells, the Creaky Cauldron, Magic Alley). You could almost feel the poor locals scheming how best to squeeze a few more dollars out of the tourists. Stratford and Hogwarts, quills and wands, poems and spells. Then again, maybe the confusion was apt: Wasn’t Shakespeare the quintessential boy wizard, magically endowed with inexplicable powers?

the Toledoth Yeshu, claims that the Jewish leaders did drag Jesus’ corpse through the streets of Jerusalem, but this account lacks historical credibility because of the late date of writing.

An effective testimonial not only loads the context with credibility but also applies the principle of social proof. In the absence of further information, we look to how others behave to decide what's correct. It's the power of conformity. If other people parked their cars on this street, it must mean it's allowed. Everyone is whispering, so I will, too. All things being equal, we follow the crowd. Clothes, habits, tastes-nearly every human social behavior-are susceptible to the principle. Social proof is especially effective when it comes from people we identify with or want to emulate.

I have always lusted after a sepia-toned library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a sliding ladder. I fantasie about Tennessee Williams' types of evenings involving rum on the porch. I long for balmy slightly sleepless nights with nothing but the whoosh of a wooden ceiling fan to keep me company, and the joy of finding the cool spot on the bed. I would while away my days jotting down my thoughts in a battered leather-bound notebook, which would have been given to me by some former lover. My scribbling would form the basis of a best-selling novel, which they wold discuss in tiny independent bookshops on quaint little streets in forgotten corners of terribly romantic European cities. In other words, I fantasize about being credible, in that artistic, slightly bohemian way that only girls with very long legs can get away with.

1979, Ron Shaich, the future CEO of Panera Bread, left his job as regional manager for the Original Cookie Company, a shopping mall–based cookie conglomerate, to start an “urban cookie store” in Boston, where he’d gone to school, that would take advantage of all the foot traffic that downtown city streets get on a daily basis. Ron had $25,000 to get started, but that wasn’t nearly enough to open a storefront in a major American city. “I had no credibility. I had no real money. I had no balance sheet to sign a lease,” he said. “So I went to my dad and said, ‘I want my inheritance, whatever it’s going to be. I want the opportunity to use it.’” And his father agreed. He gave Ron $75,000, and with that combined $100,000 Ron opened a 400-square-foot cookie store. He called it the Cookie Jar, and within two years he had folded it into the bakery and café chain we know today as Au Bon Pain.