In 1989, Joe Liemandt and four friends from Stanford University decided to build one of the most boring products in the world. It was called a "configuration engine" and it was a piece of software that helped companies who sold complex products configure all the components that went into the product correctly so that a. it would work and b. the company would know in advance how expensive it was going to be to build it.

To get a better idea of what a configuration engine does, think about the hundreds of thousands of parts that go into an airplane. Then imagine the thousands of different combinations an airline can ask for when it orders an airplane (more seats, less storage room, better fuel efficiency etc.). A configuration engine would take all these options, process them, and spit out the most cost-effective combination of working parts.

When Liemandt and his friends set out to build their configuration engine, everyone thought they were crazy. They had no experience building complex products (and configurators were as complex as they get), they had no experience running a software company and they had no experience selling enterprise software - which typically goes for over a million dollars a pop. Unsurprisingly, they were turned down by every investor they approached.

But Liemandt and his friends persevered. Through a combination of blind ambition, 22 credit cards and the naïveté that comes from being 21 years old, they founded Trilogy and built their configuration engine. Their first customer, Silicon Graphics, paid them $300,000. Three months later, HP paid them $3 million. A year later, IBM signed on a $25 million deal - the largest enterprise software deal at the time.

Years pass and Trilogy is on a tear. Liemandt becomes the subject of a Harvard Business School case study and Fast Company magazine calls Trilogy "The Company of the Future."

Then one day in 1999, Joe Liemandt is paid a visit from Steve Ward, IBM's chief information officer. Ward isn't happy.

"Joe," says Ward, "we've given you all this money throughout the years, and it reminds me of a health club I joined a year ago." Confused, Liemandt listens to the rest of Ward's story.

"When I first walked into this health club, it had the most awesome equipment I've ever seen - best sports products on the market. But now, it's a year later, and I'm not in better shape. And I didn't join the health club for the equipment. I joined it to lose weight. And it's the same with you guys. I know your stuff is the best on the market. We buy it like crazy. But we're not getting the business value we want."

Unphased, Liemandt answers back: "Well, we signed a contract and if you don't like it, you can return the software. But it works according to spec."

A few weeks pass by and Liemandt is invited to meet Jack Welch, GE's legendary CEO. Welch, in his typical no-nonsense style gets straight to the point: GE is not getting a return on its investment in Trilogy's software. If Liemandt wants to keep GE as a customer, he'll have to deliver more value.

"And I'm trying to explain to him," said Liemandt, recalling the incident, "that this product had just won 'e-commerce product of the year' and I don't understand why he's yelling at me because it's obviously his team's problem because we just built the best product in the world!"

Welch's response was swift: "I don't care if it's the product of the century or if it comes from heaven above! If GE does not get an ROI, the product sucks, Trilogy sucks and you Joe, suck!"

The first months of 2000 echoed Welch's strong words. Trilogy was finding it increasingly difficult to sell new software and its existing customers were telling the company that its "one size fits all" strategy wasn't good enough for them. Liemandt knew that unless he did something drastic, Trilogy's future would be under no means certain.

So Liemandt decided to reinvent his company, using the health club metaphor as a guideline. Instead of trying to build the best products on the market, Trilogy would focus on only one thing: 100% customer success. And unlike many other technology vendors, who claim to do the same, Trilogy would tie 100% of its earnings to this success. How? By getting paid only after their customers achieved the business objectives which they themselves spelled out before adopting Trilogy's products.

"What else is new?" you might ask. "Trilogy simply moved its pricing from product-based to success-based. What's so unique about that?"

What's unique about it is that in the process of changing the way it charged for its products, Trilogy had to change its definition of success. Most companies, especially those with a high concentration of engineers, take great pride in the products they develop. For many, "developing the best products on the market" becomes the top priority.

But customers don't care about "the best product on the market." The only thing customers care about is whether your company and your products can help THEM perform better.

If your company is "committed to customer success," that's great. But until you're willing to measure your own success through the success of your customers, all you're doing is adding more equipment to the health club.