Like many of the shapes that emerge from the mouths of youths, there are certain words that come so packed with meaning it’s hard for me to imagine how we (well, me. Always late to things) did without them. 

Sandwichness is the delightful measure - or proximity - of something to a sandwich. Well, duh Richard, but hang on. For example, how much sandwichness does a pitta stuffed with chargrilled veg possess? Bread-based? Check. Filling in-between? Tick. Can be consumed on the move? Yep. A separate top and bottom. Ah. Not a sandwich really. Not a bun either. 

See? See how interesting the world is when explored via the proximity or comparableness-ness of things? Especially things that bear a superficial similarity to other things. 

You could ask the -ness of almost anything and it could immediately act as a proxy-yard-(apologies to the metric brigade)-stick to draw inference and comparative qualities between your New Thing and that Current Thing. 

Perhaps a client is asking you to help work out the positioning for, say a brand of electric car? Given there will likely be an archetype product in place (or at least a market-leader), there’s your sandwich. And off you go. 

Strategy is often illustrated with its own lexical thicket, usually around and abounding in all sorts of intellectually-arresting adjectives; much of which, while valuable, sometimes fails to get much pinned that’s definitive - or more importantly, makes real-world sense.

Thinking about the Sandwichness of things could be more relatable. In the way that the Hollywood Pitch works (‘Alien’. Think ‘Jaws in space.’),  rendering stuff in a way brings a new way of looking at it. And strange new and interesting combinations of them.

Next time you're key-bored of typing the same old synonyms and metaphors into a planning deck and wondering why it’s still an hour to lunch-o-clock, give yourself a break and go make a sandwichness.