Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Context, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Design, Jill, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Paula, Perspective, Planners, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, Planning, Women
I know it’s Halloween, but how I’m choosing to ignore it because I wrote this post ages ago and I can’t be arsed to write a new one to celebrate the ghosts and ghouls.
Hey, at least I’m being honest.
So anyway, I love design.
In fact, I would go one further …
I think design can see opportunities most strategists could never pull off.
This is not because my wife is one.
And some of my closest friends.
It’s because design can make the impossible, happen.
It can make a teetotaler buy alcohol.
It can make static images move.
It can make you want to pick up a specific product on an aisle of identical products.
It can open possibilities to people who have been denied for years.
And it can make you pay a premium for something that does exactly the same thing as everything else.
This last one is exemplified by something I saw when I was recently in China. Specifically this:
How lovely is that?
Yes, I really am talking about IT and mathematical equipment.
And while I assume the manufacturers are trying to attract a female skewed buyer – given its lipstick pallete inspiration [Don’t shout at me, I said skewed, not exclusively women because I totally appreciate the role cosmetics play across culture] – it’s such a refreshing change from the old, lazy, sexist and conformist ‘just make it pink’ bullshit that so many marketers used to think was the most efficient and effective way to engage the ‘female customer’.
Like this.
Or this.
Or this.
Or this.
Or this.
But it’s not just because it’s an update on the lowest-common-cliche we’ve seen – and still see – from brands. No, what I also love is the craft and consideration that has obviously gone into all of it.
It’s wonderful.
It’s refreshing.
It’s something I bet few planners would ever come up with, because one of the biggest problems we have as a discipline is our desire to reveal our self-appointed ‘intellectual superiority’ and frankly, creating a set of IT equipment that has been inspired by lipstick palettes is probably something the vast majority of us would see as ‘beneath us’.
And that’s problematic for a whole host of reasons.
From the fact we prefer to give answers rather than gain understanding right through to our motivation seems to be more about impressing our peers than doing things that actually change outcomes. Not in reality, but theoretically. Hence we read so many ‘hot takes’ about what’s wrong with work from people who have never made anything of note whatsofuckingever.
It all reminds me of something my Dad used to say, which – because I love the Lucille Ball quote about the same issue – I’ve paraphrased to this:
A person who wants others to know how intelligent they are may be smart, but they’re not very clever.
And that is why I adore what my wonderful and brilliant friend, Paula Bloodworth, recently spoke about at a conference when she said, ‘the smartest thing a planner can be, is stupid’.
Happy ‘trick or treat’.
Filed under: Comment
Did you write a successful novel the first time you picked up a pen?
Did you achieve a World Record time the first time you went for a run?
Did you win an Oscar the first time you took a video with your phone?
Without wishing to be presumptuous, I’m guessing the answer is a big fat no … and yet it seems that is what clients expect to buy any new idea.
To make matters more complicated, you have to be able to prove it BEFORE they do it … because if there’s any element of doubt, then they’ll say it’s all off.
Now I understand marketing is important and also very, very expensive – so you can’t take the piss – but I tell you what else costs a lot of money: doing the same bland stuff you – and your competition – have always done and expecting to achieve something special.
But this is where we increasingly find ourselves …
The dismissal of anything unknown or that has the potential of a flaw or holds the potential of alienating anyone – even if they’re people who would never consider you in the first place – while all the time talking in soundbites of ‘wanting to be great’, wanting to ‘disrupt the market’, wanting to ‘make something iconic’.
Forget great is achieved through the lessons of failure.
Forget great is decided as much by the audience as the creators.
Forget great is about taking a leap rather than a small step forward.
Forget great is more cost effective than spending millions on blanket media.
We’re now in a world where the industry is trying to redefine the rules for success through a process that is designed to create average … in the middle … to fit in, rather than stand out.
And that would be OK if we were honest about it, but no one is.
We have gurus selling their processes as if they’re rockets rather than insurance policies.
We have companies pushing optimization as a liberator rather than an efficiency generator.
We have people claiming marketing practice is an MBA when it’s very good ‘Marketing-101’.
We have brands thinking process complicity is a differentiator when it’s a duplicator.
We have strategists believing popularity is a sign of their smarts rather than superficiality.
We’re literally proving the Emperor’s New Clothes is more documentary than children’s story … and yet we continue to favour those who talk about their systems, models, processes regardless of the fact many of them have never, ever made anything good. I don’t mean that from a subjective perspective, I mean it in terms of many of the people with the loudest voice and opinions have literally not made a single thing.
Zilch.
Nada.
Zero.
But that’s where we’re at these days … the land of bonkers beliefs.
Where companies talk about the importance of ‘strategy’, then do the absolute opposite when there’s a chance to make more – or quick – profit. Where organisations talk about the importance of employees and loyalty, then treat them like disposable commodities when it suits their needs. Where marketing departments talk about forward planning, then keep briefing ‘sprints’ to lots of agencies to cover their lack of forward planning. Where research agencies talk about understanding customers, then invest in bots to ‘replicate’ human responses so they don’t not have to incur the cost of actually going out to ‘understand people’. Where media agencies talk about their expertise in reaching people, then sign contracts with big media companies that guarantee how much they will spend with them. Where ad agencies talk about valuing the creative product, then undermine the process to reach a figure the procurement department likes. Where brand consultants talk about brand experience, then sell processes designed to deliver ‘low-level consistency’ rather than seminal interactions. Where everyone goes on about valuing craft, then act like they know how to do the job better than a professional despite literally never having done that job in their life. Where CEO’s talk about responsibilities, then outsource their decisions to Management Consultancies. Where HR Departments talk about employee protection, then get rid of anyone who has the slightest difference of opinion. Where this list could literally go on for years because hypocrisy is continually being packaged to claim professional consistency.
Am I being extreme?
Yeah. But I’m also not being unrealistic.
We all know that. And yet so many keep doing it. Embracing an attitude of ‘deliberate ignorance’ to fulfill whatever it is they need or want. Be it job security, managing up or maintaining the illusion of power so you can keep reaping the rewards of the job that pays you more than you deserve or would ever get from somewhere else.
And while I understand why some have to do it, many others choose to … gaslighting others to hide their selfish complicity.
Which is why I love both images in this post.
A reminder that while systems, processes and practices have their place and role – they’re tools, not weapons – and anyone who blindly uses them for the latter … regardless of situation or circumstance, especially if they have nothing to show for it, other than arrogant egotistical behaviour … then maybe that highlights that rather than be the bastion of solution, they’re the fucking problem.
Or said another way …
So I’m back.
I won’t ask if you missed me as I don’t want to acknowledge reality.
Now you’d think having been away for 2 weeks I’d be back with all guns blazing. Bursting with inspiration and ready to drop some blog gold. Well, let me burst that bubble because I need to start this return to blogging with the news that this week features a series of posts that scrape the absolute bottom of the blog posting barrel. Yes, even by my standards. Things perk up a bit towards the end of the week, but the first couple of days a peak-low. To prove that [as if I needed to, haha] here’s a post about a chicken.
That said, I will be writing about the 2 weeks I’ve just had simply because they were one of the most magical, inspirational, provocative and challenging times I’ve had in my career and I feel extremely fortunate to have that – not just because at my age, that’s increasingly rare, but because in our optimised, efficiency-obsessed industry. it’s even rarer. But that’s to come down the line …
So a few weeks ago, our Ring cameras announced someone was at the door.
Off Jill went to see who it was, except when she opened the door, instead of a human she saw – you guessed it – this:
Now I get we live in New Zealand.
I get our house is a literal treehouse.
But a chicken???
Jill didn’t know what to do with it and as it wasn’t causing any damage – except pecking at the window – she let it roam and went to pick up Otis from school instead.
But when she returned, the chicken – named ‘Nugget’ by Otis – was still there.
So then they decided they had to try and help find its home, so after putting a message on the community Facebook page – where different people ‘claimed’ it was theirs – Jill decided to put Nugget in a box [with air vents, obvs] and see if she could find who owned it.
One neighbour pointed to a house that they said had chickens, so left it at their door with a note saying that the chicken had ‘escaped’.
An hour or so later, the owners wrote to Jill to say thank you as well as enquire where we lived as they wanted to see how far Nugget had travelled to which Jill replied – and I may never, ever forgive her for this – without once writing the immortal words, “now we know why the chicken crossed the road”.
Devastated.
Filed under: America, China, Dad, Death, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Home, Hong Kong, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Rosie, Shanghai, Singapore
So tomorrow marks the 2nd month since Rosie passed … and I am still struggling with it.
I appreciate how pathetic that may sound, but it’s how I feel.
In many ways, the loss of Rosie feels very, very similar to the loss of my parents.
I don’t say that lightly.
I also don’t say that because my parents weren’t wonderful.
Frankly, they were amazing and gave me a childhood where I can honestly say I never wanted for love, support or encouragement. And while I didn’t really appreciate how special that was until I was much older and realised not everyone got to experience that, I definitely understand how blessed I was for what they gave me and left me.
However, while Mum and Dad were my physical and emotional constant throughout my first 20+ years of my life … as I went through my key adult ’life stage’ years – such as marriage, moving countries [a lot] and starting a family – they weren’t. Part of this is because by then I was living far, far away from them – so only connected to them by phone, albeit on a daily basis, as well as my annual visit home – and part of this is because sadly, both of them died over this period of time. Which means from 2007, Rosie – along with Jill – were my physical and emotional constants.
Wherever I was … whatever I was going through … they were the ones who I went back to each and every day.
Who were there for me, each and every day.
In essence, they were on the other side of the bridge that took me between childhood to adulthood, which I hope helps explain Rosie’s significance and importance in my life.
But there is another reason I feel such loss and that is because I can’t help but feel I had something to do with it.
At the end of the day – while it was out of love to ensure she didn’t suffer given her kidneys had stopped working – I/we made the decision when her life would end. And for all the compassion, care, gentleness and tears we shed, it is something I still feel guilty about.
Of course it is full of irrationality …
Somehow, I am of the belief that we could have nursed her back to health. That … had we not taken her to the vet that Saturday morning for a routine injection, she’d still be with us.
And maybe she would … except the likelihood is she would have ended up suffering far more as we wouldn’t have had the time to get her the specialist care that ensured she didn’t suffer more than she had to.
But that Saturday is burned into my mind.
That morning she was almost back to her old self.
Jumping on our bed in the morning. Wanting food. Doing her loud ‘surprise happy scream’ every time she saw us. We even said, “she’s back to her old self”.
The injection at the vets was just to help with her arthritis – nothing more – and yet a quick blood test set off a chain of events that led to us saying goodbye to her 48 hours later.
And while I know the reality of the situation is her kidneys had started to properly fail … in fact, her readings had more than doubled within the month – from an already terrible score of 400, which represents ‘stage 4’ out of 4 possible levels for a cat’s kidney health to just under 1000 – I still find the image of leaving our house looking well and returning ready for goodbye hard to reconcile. Hard to let go of my complicity in creating this situation – even though every vet we spoke to had already warned us of the severity of her situation and, if truth be known, we were aware that her previous illness a month earlier signified a major shift in her wellbeing. As I wrote in the post announcing her death, that shift felt similar to the final stages I saw my Dad go through before he passed.
Doesn’t make it any easier.
Doesn’t make being home any less challenging.
Because everything screams she is not there.
It’s all so heartbreaking. I keep wanting to ring the vet who helped her sleep to give her an injection to make her come back alive. To erase the decision we made, even though it was absolutely the right decision … a decision that I think even Rosie wanted. Especially as kidney failure gives a cat about 30 days before it all ends in tragedy and we were close to that timeline being hit and yet I want to ignore all that as I just want her back.
Hell, I keep finding myself saying, “come on Rozzie” when we go to bed … expecting to hear her feet make a little sound as she jumps off wherever she was to follow us down the stairs. But the hardest thing … the thing that absolutely reinforces she’s not longer with us is that I no longer have to check the front door when I leave in the morning or get in at night.
Each day, as I was heading out to work, Rosie would come upstairs with me. While this was because she hoped for extra Friskies – despite I had just given them to her downstairs – I would end up giving her a couple more because I couldn’t resist her face and it was the best way to ensure she didn’t sneakily follow me out of the front door where she felt a compulsion to explore, even though she knew she wasn’t allowed to. And at night, when she heard my car come down the drive, she’d be waiting at the glass next to the front door where I would see her silently meow to me through the glass as a way of saying hello, before trying to get through my legs when I walked in.
Occasionally she’d succeed and then proceed to sit under mine – or Jill’s – car until finally getting bored [or tempted with treats of falling in reach of one of our arms] but it was a daily ritual and now I can keep the door wide open and it literally fucks with my head.
I miss it. I miss all the things she did.
Even the stuff that annoyed me … like coming into the lounge at night – when Jill and Otis were asleep – and literally screaming at me, telling me it was time to come downstairs to bed with her.
She did a lot of screaming, but over the years she ‘educated us’ to what each one meant.
One was that she wanted to sleep under our sheets in bed and needed us to lift them up for her to go underneath. One was that she was hungry and wanted us to hand deliver treats rather than eat the food in her bowl. One was for us to open the lounge doors so she could go and sit out on her special bean bag cat bed on the deck so she could look out on the trees and feel the sun on her fur. In fact, the only time she didn’t scream was when we were actively looking for her, fearing she had got out when we came home and didn’t realise.
She did do that a couple of times, but never went far. Or for long.
She knew where home was.
She knew how well she was cared for.
She was definitely not a stupid cat.
And that’s why I can’t think about getting another. At least not yet.
I did look for cats who needed adopting very soon after Rosie had gone, but then I realised I wasn’t doing it to replace her, but to replicate her and that is both impossible and unfair to whoever we adopted.
So we need time. And while this may all sound dramatic for a cat, I point you to the post I wrote about Denise – the woman that I need to apologise to. Who gave me a very early warning as to what this would feel like. Because a pet is not just for life, a pet adds to your life and Rosie was – and will forever be – my first animal family member and I’d do anything, as I would for Mum and Dad, to have her back. Even for one day.
So regardless who you are or what you’re doing, don’t take the good shit for granted.
Because as annoying as it can be, it is better than it not being there.
And that is why – despite having experienced death throughout my life – Mum, Dad and Rosie’s passing has been the most significant.
What is interesting is that at my age – which I recently heard described as ‘the youngest of the old bunch’ – I am heading towards more of that. Including, my own one day … albeit hopefully a long time away. But it does make you re-evaluate what is important and who is important, which is leading to a lot of discussions and considerations about the future we want to have rather than the future we will get given.
But while there is a lot of sadness in this post, I want you to know I’m not in a bad way.
I was, but not now.
Part of that is because we have Rosie’s ashes with us and weirdly, it feels like she’s home.
Not exactly as we would like.
But exactly where she belongs.
And that, I’m increasingly learning, is the real definition of happiness, fulfillment and success.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
This is the last post I’ll be writing for 2 weeks as I’m off on a ridiculous trip for work.
Across Canada. Across America. And a quick visit to Australia. Quite bonkers.
But I am eternally grateful for it. Not just because of the air miles, but because it is being organised by a client who wants me – and 3 colleagues – to really understand who they are.
The details. The nuances. The values. The realities.
At a time where so many clients want simple, superficial and easy, they’re going out of their way to make it difficult for all of us … but in the most brilliant, rewarding and valuable way ever.
And for that we’re all eternally grateful.
Not because it’s rare, but because it means they give a fuck about what who they are, what they do and what they want us to create together.
They’re invested in making something great, rather than just expecting excellence without contributing anything to it beyond deadlines, mandatories and distain.
And you know what this ‘in it together’ approach achieves?
A team very, very motivated to do something extraordinary for them.
That’s contrary to what many companies think is the way to work with agencies or partners these days. Believing that if they treat people like disposable commodities, they’ll get them to work even harder for them. Which means they value you nothing other than the price they pay for something.
And while I appreciate what we do costs a lot of money and so being on top of things is important, I’ll tell you what ends up costing a whole lot more: treating partners like shit. Not because they’ll stop caring about what they do, but because they know you don’t even care about who you are.
Which is why we’re thrilled to be going on this trip … because nothing shows commitment like inconvenience.
See you on the 29th … as there’s a holiday in Auckland on the 28th, hahaha.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Context, Corporate Evil, Creativity, Culture, Embarrassing Moments, Management, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Mediocrity, Perspective, Point Of View
I don’t struggle for things that fuck me off, but what is currently top of the charts on my personal ‘shit parade’ is people who talk in definitive and absolute terms.
Actually I need to be more specific. I mean the people who talk in definitive and absolute terms that blatantly attempt to elevate their position by putting others down via some pseudo-intellectual or utterly subjective horseshit.
It’s happening more and more, especially on – surprise, surprise – Linkedin.
And while I’m all about having a point-of-view, it only has value if you have an appreciation of what others think or do. So you have some real context to evaluate your viewpoint. And it would be even better if you also had some actual experience in the area – or on the issue – you’re being condescending about. Not ‘in theory’. Not ‘by association’. Not some ‘short-term, low-level’ employment experience from 20 years ago. Actual experience. So – you know – you can show you have an actual idea what the fuck you’re talking about, including what it takes to actually make these things happen and who is complicit when it doesn’t on an on-going basis.
Because nothing screams egotistical, blinkered, privileged, arrogant asshole – desperate-for-attention-or-notoriety – than saying “This is shit as is anyone who disagrees with me”.
Topped off by then ignoring, deleting or blocking anyone who dares challenge their view, even if they are well placed to have a perspective and are expressing it with respect and politeness.
It’s like they’re the bastard love child of Andrew Tate and a shock-jock talkback radio host. Immediately dismissing anything that doesn’t suit their narrative but throwing praise on anyone or anything that acknowledges it. Even better if it specifically acknowledges them. By name.
The thing is, these people have smarts. They’re not stupid. But their ego refuses to accept or acknowledge any other possible way of thinking or working. So when someone or something achieves a level of success that sustainably outstrips their approach, they either attack or try to claim some sort of ownership of the success. A bit like all those people who suddenly updated their Linkedin profiles to say they were NFT/Metaverse/AI experts.
It’s pretty incredible to be honest.
Which is why I find it kinda-ironic some of the worst offenders seem to be those who reside – or are associated with – academia. Not all of course, just the ones who seem to think that because they’re highly qualified in one area, they are qualified to speak about all areas.
Which is why, whenever I see these men [and it’s typically men] peacocking on social media, it reminds me of Lucille Ball’s brilliant quote. A quote I made into a sticker that I’ve given to members of my planning teams for decades.
A sticker permanently stuck on the front of my laptop …
