Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, China, Content, Context, Creativity, Culture, Grifting, Perspective, Planners, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, Planning, Relevance, Reputation, Research, Respect, Standards
Once upon a time, I did some work with the Google exec, Jonathan Rosenberg.
He was very kind and generous to me, more kind and generous than he should – which I suppose means extra kind and generous – but there’s one thing he said to me that has specifically stayed with me.
We were talking about a book someone had written about google and to paraphrase, he said, “they made us sound more interesting than we were”.
Now I remember this for 2 reasons.
1. At the time I was shocked he thought google wasn’t that interesting … because at the time, they were probably the most interesting and exciting company on the planet.
2. I realised that the book he was referring to was written by an observer, not a participant.
There’s a lot of good things being an observer.
You often see things those inside are too close to realise.
An objective perspective that shines a light on things others may take for granted or not even considered.
But … and it’s a big but … there’s also a shitload of danger.
Because ultimately, you are evaluating from your own perspective which is laden with your own prejudices, contexts and opinions.
Now that’s not necessarily wrong, where it goes dodgy is when you ignore that and just write your view as fact. That what you see is declared as a statement that suggests everyone thinks this way. Which is – generally – ego bollocks.
I used to see this all the time in China.
People coming in making big points based on their observations of the country without realising what they think is important, is only because it’s new to them rather than realising its normality to the people they’re referring to.
It was like they couldn’t wait to shout and share.
To position themselves as ‘in the action’, when really they were just casual observers.
Desperate to broadcast to the mass rather than take the time to consider others contexts and cultural references.
There’s a lot of that around at the moment.
Post rationalised, personal perspectives expressed as unquestionable fact.
Or worse, unquestionable genius.
God complex pricks … as a friend of mine refers to them.
And worse, it attracts others like them who value shortcuts than substance.
Look on Linkedin and it’s everywhere. Opinions spouted as fact by people who have the most tenuous relationship with what they are talking about.
Now don’t get me wrong, outsiders have an important role for reasons mentioned above … but that only works when they’re focused on gaining understanding rather than demanding answers and accepting their view may have to evolve with additional knowledge and information … because when they do that, they’re creating contexts based on their own personal blinkers/ego and everyone suffers for it.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about a male scent that was based on the movie, Friday The 13th.
In the post, I’ve waxed lyrical about how the scent category makes absolutely no sense and yet [1] it kinda does, given what it’s ultimately selling and [2] as much as I laugh at it, I also kinda love it.
I say that because recently I saw the name of a Tom Ford scent …
Noir Extreme!
NOIR EXTREME!!!
Hahahahahaha …
When I saw it, I couldn’t help think of this scene from the mockumentary, Spinal Tap.
I can just imagine the scene at the naming meeting.
Boss:
“We need it to sound dark and mysterious”.
Overly keen exec:
“What about ‘noir’ … that seems it fits the bill”.
Boss:
“Yes, but we need it to be more emotive … more masculine … more dark”.
Overly keen exec:
“What about Raw Noir?”.
Boss:
“Not dark enough”
Overly keen exec:
“What about Noir Noir?”.
Boss:
“Sounds too much like an 80’s pop band”.
Overly keen exec:
“I’ve got it … I’ve got it … what about Noir Extreme?”.
Boss:
“I love it … there’s nothing more noir than extreme noir”.
Which is why as much as strategy likes to talk about ‘laddering’ … to get to push ideas to new places, there’s no one more adept at it than the scent industry. Which is why it can only be a matter of time before we can look forward to a range of male scents with names like ‘Vicious Death’, ‘Hardcore Evil’ or – potentially the most extreme of all – ‘Pong Like Putin’.
You heard it here first. Ahem.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Colenso, Colleagues, Complicity, Culture
I have a long history of buying shit.
For example …
Cups.
Badges.
Pencils.
Stickers.
Packing tape.
You name it, I’ve likely ordered it.
I don’t do it intentionally … but it just ends up that way.
Or should I say other people tell me it’s shit. The bastards.
Which is my way of revealing the latest purchase.
More badges.
Specifically these …
Personally, I don’t think they’re a waste of money, I think they’re literally a badge of honour and hopefully shame … because as I pointed out a few weeks ago, too many companies hold meetings for no other reason than to look productive while hiding the fact they’re not and this is our way of showing we know what they’re doing and we don’t like it.
It’s why I have a lot of appreciation for how Amazon approach them – I don’t think they’re necessarily right – because there has to be an amount of flex to allow conversations to explore and evolve – but I do like they’re for a specific reason rather than for any reason. [including to work out what the reason could be]
It blows my mind that more and more companies are placing more and more limits on what they are willing to spend money on, but they’re cool with any employee calling any amount of meetings for any amount of people without so much as a blink of the eye – despite the fact they can literally run to thousands and thousands of dollar value.
The world of business – for all its hubris – is very messed up.
Which is why these badges are the nicest way to say ‘you’re fucked’ without being sacked.
Hopefully, hahaha.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Airports, Attitude & Aptitude, Creativity, Culture, Leadership, Management, Marketing Fail, Mediocrity, New Zealand, Planes, Relevance, Reputation, Singapore
This may be the most privileged posts I’ve ever written.
So for the last 19 odd years, I’ve spent a lot of time on planes. Mainly flying long haul. And because I’ve moved countries a lot, I’ve got to experience a whole bunch of different airlines.
As an aside … when we moved to NZ, I genuinely thought it would be the end of my plane habit, without realising that when you live on the other side of the planet – and have clients in Europe, the US and Asia – you’re going to spend a fuck load more times on planes, not less.
Yep, I’m an idiot.
Anyway, in the time I’ve been travelling, I’ve experienced it all.
Good airlines, bad airlines, questionable airlines.
I should point out that when I say bad or questionable – it’s never about the safety of the plane [bar one occasion in China and one in Portugal] it’s more to do with the service and/or the passengers on it. I mean, who can forget the time I woke up on Air Canada, flying to Toronto from Shanghai, and found a 7 year old pissing on my blanket while his Mum watched and did absolutely nothing. No, that is not a joke.
But one airline that has consistently been great has been Singapore Airlines.
Excellent planes. Excellent service. Excellent facilities.
Now, I don’t fly them as much as I obviously did when I lived there – so I was quite excited to be flying with when returning from a trip to Amsterdam.
The first leg was up to its usual quality, but the Singapore to NZ leg was a bit weird.
First of all they changed the gate at the last minute to a totally different terminal, which meant I ended up being 3 minutes away from missing my flight – which would have only been the 2nd time I’ve ever failed to get on my plane. Then, on boarding, I discovered it was possibly the oldest plane I’d ever seen Singapore Airlines fly. Admittedly not as old as the one I flew with Air Koryo – the North Korean state airline – but proportionally, the same.
So not a great start.
But what really got me was the service.
The people on board were their usual brilliant self, but when it came to lunch, this is what they gave me to eat my food with.
Jesus Christ, were they serving me a 4957 course lunch?
Now I appreciate I sound like a privileged prick here – and I did acknowledge that at the very beginning of the post – but while this may sound the epitome of ‘first world problem’, when you’ve experienced almost 20 years of attention-to-detail perfection from Singapore Airlines, these things stand out.
Worse, they get remembered.
Which is why companies need to remember that the service they offer creates the minimum standard for the experience customers expect and the more they try to cut corners, the more all that hard work and effort goes to waste.
I get some routes are less profitable than others.
I get there’s only a certain amount of planes available.
But as the father of a friend once told me, “the sooner you see your reputation as a cost, the sooner you lose your reputation.”.
Hopefully SIA work that out faster than it has taken adland.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Cats, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Hope, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis, Paul, Respect
This week has been a week of pretty heavy posts.
But given the standard I normally write at, this has – if I may say so myself – been pretty good. And hopefully today will top that off, albeit in a pretty emotional and confronting way.
Let’s see …
When I was young, I remember thinking that I never wanted to be with my parents when they died. My belief was the pain of watching them go would be too much for me to deal with. That seeing their final moments would leave an indelible scar on me for the rest of my life.
Thank fuck I came to my senses …
Because while their deaths were – and continue to be – the worst days of my life, I’d have been haunted if I’d not been by their side.
It could have happened.
It could have happened easily given I was living in different countries when they passed.
Australia for Dad. China for Mum.
But for reasons I’ll be eternally grateful for, I was there. With them. Able to tell them how much I loved them, was grateful for them and would do my best to honour them.
Because even though I was drowning in a sea of overwhelming grief as I witnessed them take their final breaths, it was the moment I understood – with absolute certainty and clarity – why I had to be there.
For them. And for me.
A few years before Mum died, her sister-in-law passed away. It was unexpected and she died at home on her own. To be discovered the following day.
Mum was understandably very upset about this. Not just for the loss of a woman she liked very much, but that her final moments had been on her own. That she must have been so scared. So desperate to be surrounded with the people she loved.
One day, while visiting from Shanghai, Mum confessed how she feared this would happen to her. That she’d be alone. I’d never heard her say something like this before and it genuinely haunted me. Not just in that moment, but till the end.
My Mum was an amazing woman. She had endured a huge amount of hardship through her life and all I wanted to do was look after her. But she was also fiercely independent, so it was always hard to get her to accept anything from me. In her mind, I had to focus on my life – not hers – which is why revealing her fear was so heartbreaking.
You see, not only was she acknowledging her own mortality – which was devastating to hear, let alone for her to say – she was admitting there was something I could do for her, even though we both knew it was something that was almost impossible to ensure.
What made this even more emotionally charged is that we both knew that this admission had ‘slipped out’.
Mum spent her life trying to protect me from pain and inconvenience at all costs – from her gentle words to try and coax me out of my delusion that Dad would miraculously get better after his devastating strokes through to me finding notes she’d written prior to death to make sure it was easier for me to handle her affairs – so the pain of hearing her fear was no doubt matched by the pain she felt for causing me sorrow.
She was that sort of person. A wonderful, compassionate and considerate human. A woman who would genuinely give someone her last £1 than keep it herself. Which I admit, annoyed the fuck out of me sometimes. Ha.
And that’s why I’m so grateful I was with her when the worst happened. As I was with Dad. And if you look back to March/April 2015 on this blog, you will read the anguish and pain I went through. But among all the desperation and loss, you’ll also see clues why I was so happy to be there on one of the worst days of my life.
Because while the idea of not having to see your loved one’s die, makes some sort of sense – the reality is quite different.
In fact, I’d go even further.
As bone crushingly devastating saying goodbye to a loved one is, it’s not as agonising as you would feel for not being there.
You see at that point, it’s not about you – but them.
However you feel has to place second-fiddle to their needs and situation.
For them, knowing they’re not alone at their final moments gives them peace. A way to leave with love rather than just fear. It doesn’t matter if they’re conscious not, they know and I can say this with absolute certainty.
As I said at Dad’s funeral, when we arrived to be by his side after an urgent call from the hospital, we found his body in the throes of turning off all the lights. Imagine someone walking around their old house and checking that all the windows were closed, all the lights were off and all the doors were locked. Making sure everything was done before they left for good. That was Dad and his body had almost finished its final check bar one little candle flickering in the night. But the thing was, he wasn’t going to blow that out till we were there … till we could tell him he could go … that we loved him … that we were grateful for all he had done for us … that we knew he loved us.
And when we did that, we watched him metaphorically blow out that final light out without fuss. A dignified, quiet passing, leaving us distraught with the loss but happy we were together.
Which is why I am so glad I came to my senses about not wanting to be there when my parents died. Because if I did that, not only would I have left my parents to experience fear instead of comfort and loneliness instead of love, I would have spent a lifetime trying to come to terms with what I’d done. How in my selfishness, I’d left people I loved – and love – at their most desperate and alone, at a time where they arguably needed me most in their life.
Of course, for some, they don’t have the option to be there.
Sometimes it’s because of circumstance, sometimes because of situation. And to them, I hope they are able to find some sort of peace because I can’t imagine the pain and burden that must inflict on them.
Now I say all this for 2 reasons.
One. Because tomorrow is the 9th anniversary of my wonderful Mum dying.
Two. I recently read an article that brought all this back to me … but through a perspective I’d never considered – the final days of a pet.
As you know, I bloody love my cat Rosie.
She’s basically my first real pet … and while we originally got her to keep Jill happy, she has become a true member of the family.
I’ve turned down jobs because of her.
I’ve started companies to bring in her favourite food for her.
I’ve taken big freelance jobs to aid her movement to new countries for her.
She is very, very special to me.
She is also, very, very old … and while she is generally fit and well … for the last few years I’ve wondered if this is the year we have to say goodbye.
It will happen eventually. I mean she turns 17 this year. SEVENTEEN. And my worst thought is having to one day take her to the vet to put her down.
And despite the lessons I’ve learned from my parents passing, my initial thought was if we had to do that for Rosie, I’d not be able to be there. It would be too hard.
And then I read this.
[Whether a pet owner or not, please read it]
Of course it should have been obvious.
Of course it should never be even a consideration.
But while we treat pets like members of the family, at the worst moment – many of us disassociate ourselves to try and protect ourselves.
Forgetting that at that moment, it isn’t about us – but them.
Yes we will be devastated.
Yes it will be horrific and hard.
But how do we think it is for them?
To face your final moments and not see the person who has been there loving them and looking out for them must be terrifying and confusing. Alone in an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar people.
As the article states:
“You have been the centre of their world for THEIR ENTIRE LIVES!!!!”
“90 per cent of owners don’t actually want to be in the room when he injects them so the animal’s last moments are usually them frantically looking around for their owners”.
Frantically looking for their owners.
Take that in.
I don’t imagine its that different for people in their final moments.
They need us. They need us to feel they still have us. That their final moments are with love and not abandonment.
I know it’s hard. I know it’s horrific. But I also know it’s not about us – not really.
So I write this to say that should you be of the opinion you don’t want to be there … that the pain would be too much. Know I sympathise, but also know it won’t nearly be as painful or deep as the knowledge that you weren’t.
Give the people. pets and places you love a hug, call or kiss this weekend.
See you Monday. I hope, ha.