Talking loud and saying something - getting your business noticed in the US

Saturday, 20 December 2025

In the States, there’s an expectation that if you’ve got something worth talking about, you’ll be doing it loudly, writes Mike O’Donnell.

Mike “MOD” O’Donnell is a seasoned company director and investor. He lives in Santa Monica and is currently North American regional director for NZTE. This column represents his personal opinions.

OPINION: About 50 years ago the British academic, broadcaster and Labour MP Austin Mitchell wrote a book that both celebrated and gently took the mickey out of New Zealand life.

The Half-Gallon Quarter-Acre Pavlova Paradise became a minor classic of Kiwi populist writing. It was framed as a guide for a prospective English immigrant and was loved for its warmth, humour and its sharp, affectionate observations about how New Zealanders saw themselves and the world around them.

Half a century on, the pavlova remains gloriously intact. The half-gallon flagon of beer has all but disappeared, and the quarter-acre section is now an endangered species. Yet the quarter acre phrase still carries real emotional weight.

The late Austin Mitchell, a British politician and writer who drew on his time living in New Zealand to write The Half-Gallon Quarter-Acre Pavlova Paradise.

It summons up a particular vision of contentment. A solidly built home, a proper garage, a decent backyard, and very often a tree hut tucked away with secret treasures, bad ideas and the first experiments in independence.

Which makes it a fitting name for a Michelin-recommended restaurant in Dallas, Texas, run by a world-class Kiwi chef.

This week I caught up with that chef, Toby Archibald, at Quarter Acre, set in the leafy Dallas suburb of Greenville Ave which Toby cheerfully describes as “the bad end”.

We met over the best coffee I have yet tasted in North America, thanks to LDU Coffee, a reminder that even in Texas the long reach of Australasian taste culture is quietly extending.

Social media photos from New Zealand chef Toby Archibald's Quarter Acre restaurant in Dallas.

Born and raised in Drury, Archibald has spent the past two decades cooking in some of the world’s most demanding kitchens. His journey eventually took him to New York, where he worked under the legendary Daniel Boulud and met his future wife. Dallas followed, then family life, and in December 2022 Quarter Acre opened its doors.

From lush sheepskins to Otago-manufactured fabrics, and a cooking style that blends New Zealand sensibilities with global technique, the restaurant speaks clearly to New Zealanders who recognise the cues.

To everyone else it simply feels distinctive, confident and fresh. Ingredients such as Lewis Road Creamery butter and Big Glory Bay salmon give the restaurant sustained pulling power in a Dallas market that has shrunk by around 40% since tariffs began pushing retail prices higher.

But for all the craft and culinary sophistication, Toby says the hardest part of building the business was not the food. It was learning to talk about himself loudly enough.

That comment will resonate with any New Zealand business trying to establish itself in North America. One thing you cannot say about Americans is that they are shy. Quite the opposite. They are the most instinctive self promoters and marketers I have encountered. Backwards in coming forwards they are not.

The toughest thing for a Kiwi about getting a business established in Dallas might be learning to talk loudly about yourself, writes Mike O’Donnell.

Everything is presented as the juiciest, the smartest, the most transformative thing you will encounter this year. From pickles to property investments to accident compensation lawyers.

Toby’s biggest lesson from the past three years is that in the United States you have to oversell yourself simply to register on the radar. It is an observation I hear repeatedly from trade commissioners and business development managers, whether the conversation is about food, software, advanced manufacturing or professional services.

Typically, the first hire Kiwi companies make in North America is a salesperson. This is the person who becomes the front door to the business, the narrator of the story, and often the embodiment of the firm’s ambition.

At home, a New Zealander applying for a job will usually present themselves at about 80% of their true capability. It reflects our cultural instinct to be self-effacing and to let the work speak for itself. Even in sales roles, many only stretch to selling themselves at full value, bless their little Norsewear socks.

In the United States, genuinely mediocre salespeople will happily promote themselves at 300% of actual ability and do so with complete confidence. The unsuspecting and often overly polite Kiwi employer then takes six months to work this out, exits them, and tries again.

Often the same mistake is made a second time. If the business is lucky, by the third attempt they finally land someone whose competence roughly matches their confidence.

At that point, progress becomes possible. They are not away laughing, but they are at least in the game. Albeit many thousands of dollars lighter in export funding capital.

Which brings us back to Mitchell’s pavlova paradise. New Zealand continues to produce exceptional talent, ideas and products. What has changed is the volume of the world they are pitched into.

The Austin Mitchell mindset of quiet excellence and modest presentation works beautifully at home. In America, it barely clears its throat.

The challenge for Kiwi exporters is not to abandon who they are, but to adapt how they introduce themselves.

In today’s North America, paradise does not sell itself. You have to describe it clearly, repeat it confidently, and remind people why it deserves a place at the table.