I work for a software company.

In the business world, companies like mine are often referred to as “vendors”. This gets under my skin.

Why? Because rather than simply categorizing a business for what it does, it’s often delivered in a pejorative way, as if the business providing the product or service is somehow subservient or inferior to the businesses they serve, or perpetually in the role of being lower in the proverbial food chain.

A “vendor” really has two definitions, according to the dictionary:

1. A person or agency that sells.
2. A machine that dispenses products.

I think the negative connotation I perceive comes from labeling the first thing like the second (and those who probably give good businesses bad names because they behave like the latter themselves). In the supply chain sense of the word, a vendor used to mean a property seller. Over time, it broadened to mean anyone who supplied to other businesses, mostly in the realm of tangible goods like manufacturing, but eventually services as well.

Here’s the thing, today more than ever.

We’re all providing something to someone.

Whether we do so valuably or not is another post altogether. But whether you’re making cogs or bearings, writing copy, consulting, or selling research, you’re effectively a vendor to someone, too.

Language and Perception

We have a hard time obsolescing words and terms that don’t fit our business models anymore. But every relationship is contextual. If I provide a service to your business, that puts our relationship in one context, and my accountability is according to that supplier-investor cycle. If you in turn provide to another business, suddenly you find yourself on the other side of that coin. If you’re in the business of advising, that doesn’t exempt you from the fact that you’re still selling something to someone else, even if its your brain.

Maybe I’m reading into this too much.

But I can’t help but note the analysts or the pundits or even the consultative types sometimes referring to their “vendors” with nearly a sneer on their face, as if they wouldn’t deign to put themselves in the same business category. But we’re an ecosystem, fellow business people. We’re all buying, selling, needing, providing. It doesn’t work otherwise.

And if you pay attention to my conversations, you know how much I think words matter and how much I value conscious communication. Language is important, as is the intent with which we use it. And in an ever more complex, networked, and nuanced business world, I admit that I eschew the kinds of generalizations that label a business as merely a “vendor” as much as I do the notion that all “consultants” are of the same ilk (and singular, one-dimensional profile). Because the labels we give one another sure set the tone for how our relationship begins or evolves, don’t they?

So this started for me as a single example of a term in business that I think is not about the actual definition, but rather the perception or judgment it carries. And now I’m wondering what other words we might be using that are limited in their nuance, have taken on definitions or implications that are outside their original intent, or that might simply start to become obsolete as the shape of business changes around us.

And I’m thinking really hard about how the words we use in the context of our business relationships can have a profound effect on the way we perceive ourselves, one another, and the value of the work we do.

(As for what I’d rather be called, instead of a “vendor”? I think I’d just like to be a company, who happens to be in the software business. But I’m still thinking.)

What do you think?