Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Australia, Authenticity, Culture, Food, Friendship, Sydney
Last month I found myself in Sydney.
While I have spent a lot of time recently in Australia, it has been a while since I was in that city.
It felt a bit weird.
Part of that is because of the history I have with the place.
I lived there for almost 10 years.
My wife and her family are from there.
We still have a home there.
Overall, I enjoyed my time there – but I always felt I would have been happier in Melbourne.
I always found that city a bit more real. A bit less showy.
More NYC than LA.
But as I was walking to have dinner with a friend who has just moved to Australia from Amsterdam, I passed this place …
Harry’s is an institution in Sydney.
A food stall that is – or was – open 24/7.
A place that is covered in photos of all the World Famous people who have visited and eaten there.
Elton John. Pamela Anderson. Colonel bloody Saunders.
You name them, they’ve all gone on a trip to Wooloomooloo wharf at some ungodly time of the day or night to chomp down on one of their basic delicacies.
The entire menu of Harry’s consists of pies, mash, peas, gravy and hot dogs with many packaged up using different combinations of those ingredients and given ‘exotic’ names.
Not only that, they offered mint sauce as a condiment for people to use as much as they liked and they never, ever scrimped on the onions in a hot dog … which meant that for me, Harry’s was – or should I say ‘is’ – perfect in every way.
Cheap as chips. Tasty as fuck.
Anyway, when I lived in Sydney, there were 2 scenarios where I would find myself there.
1. When I had visitors in town.
2. New Years Day … around 4am.
For 10 years, I made those pilgrimages to gluttony and never once did I regret it.
Oh the people I saw there.
The sights I witnessed.
The stories I heard and wrote.
I was early for meeting my friend so I just stared at the place. Relived the memories. And I have to tell you, I literally had to fight with myself not to buy ‘a Tiger’ pie.
I really wanted to … but the impending dinner with my friend, my new-found healthiness and their ‘pay by phone’ feature being down conspired to stop me.
OK, it was the pay by phone feature being down that was the real issue.
And while I am sure some stuff has changed – it wasn’t open 24/7 for a start [though now I’m thinking that may never have been the case except maybe weekends] it was lovely to see the old place. Hell, it even made me feel good about the city again.
You see while people love to talk about Sydney for its beauty – which is fair, as it is gorgeous – I always loved it for its quirky character.
The corners.
The places hidden in the shadows.
The slightly questionable rather than glam.
And while so much of it all has now become gentrified, I do love it when I find places that are proud about not changing. Seems crazy, but in a world that always wants to run ahead, there’s something comforting about a pie shop who is stubbornly staying true to who they are.
Almost as comforting as the pies they feed you.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Airports, Art, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, Authenticity, Childhood, Comment, Content, Context, Creative Brief, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Empathy, Fake Attitude, Humanity, Imagination, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Mediocrity, Point Of View, Provocative, Qantas, Relevance, Reputation, Resonance, Respect
Many years ago – 2009 to be precise – I wrote a take down of Qantas, the Australian Airline.
It wasn’t about their experience or service which – back then – were pretty good, certainly much better than they are today. No, it was about the lyrics to their ‘iconic’ song, ‘Still Call Australia Home‘.
Now I appreciate I’m a Brit.
I appreciate that, at the time, I had an agency called Cynic, so was full of piss and vinegar.
I even appreciate – as my Aussie wife reinforced to me in no uncertain terms – that the song and Qantas’ advertising was pretty special for Aussies so maybe I should shut the fuck up.
And that is good advice. Except 15 years later, I’ve decided to come back with a comeback.
You see recently I saw an ad for another Australian icon …
The difference being this one is worthy of that label annnnnnd – even more significantly – they’ve made a piece of advertising that ignites all the emotion, pride and Australian spirit that Qantas would possibly sacrifice their ‘never had a crash’ reputation, to achieve.
[Please note, this is simply to emphasise the point. I get it’s not a great turn of phrase. And I obviously don’t mean it. So if you prefer, simply replace it with: “… that Qantas would allow themselves to be embroiled in even more financial scandal, to achieve”. Better? Oh god … there’s no pleasing some people is there!]
Anyway, if you’re wondering what I’m talking about, it’s this from the Sydney Opera House for their 50th anniversary.
[Though while it’s being shared a lot at the moment, it actually came out about 8 months ago]
I love it.
I love it so much it made a cynical Brit emotional.
Sure, I have an Aussie wife … a ½ Aussie son … Australian residency and was even a member of the audience in a couple of the historic scenes they show in the film … but I’ve never, ever felt that way about a Qantas ad.
Not once.
Hell, I don’t even like Tim Minchin – the guy who leads every thing in the ad – and yet I still felt connected to the spot.
Part of it could be because The Opera House was to me, a symbol of Australia, decades before I moved there.
I still remember how overawed and overwhelmed I was when I first saw it for real. This incredible place whose image had been burned into my mind from years of seeing it on TV shows, in magazine articles or just everyday imagery.
But it’s more than that, it’s what the place signifies.
The story that underpins the whole film.
A true story.
One where the quest to do something different triumphs over the demands to control and conform. An ode to the majesty of imagination and art rather than the adherence of tradition and regulation.
It all feels – ignoring the fact the Opera House was designed by the Dane, Jørn Utzon – much closer to the ‘Aussie spirit’ than anything Qantas has ever done.
A salute to those who wish to push and challenge rather than seek the comfort of being back ‘where they’re comfortable’.
Now I appreciate that maybe that spirit is more confined to the past than the present.
One look at how the vote for ‘The Voice’ turned out reveals comfort, convenience and control are the words of the day.
But that aside, it’s a very special film.
Helped by the fact the Opera House is a very special place.
Not just for Australia, but for anyone who hopes for something a bit more.
A bit more personal.
A bit more emotional.
A bit more wonderful.
And if you need any more reason why you should love the Opera House far, far more than Qantas … let me tell you, even the Opera House’s cheapest seats offer more leg room than pretty much anything you’ll get on that airline.
Filed under: Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, Comment, Communication Strategy, Crap Products In History, Fashion
Let me start by saying I acknowledge I have no idea what I am talking about.
While I like to think I am a man of the world, the reality is I’m a man so shouldn’t be even talking about things like this.
However …
A few weeks ago, I was in Melbourne, Australia.
While I was walking around the city, I came across this:
Now I appreciate that – like jeans – people may have a favourite bra, however is there enough demand to want a shop to ‘bring them back to life’? Also, while I’m at it … what does ‘bring it back to life’ even mean?
While I’m at it, why would they call it ‘Peek A Bra’?
There’s so many possibilities … some good, some interesting and some that would totally show my age so I’ll shut up in fear of getting cancelled or just looking especially tragic. But most of all, why the hell did they print it on top of another sign that wasn’t cleaned properly?
Unsurprisingly, Peek A Bra had closed down … another idea lost to the realms of time … and yet despite that, it’s captured my imagination in ways many more ‘obvious’ brands have continually failed to achieve, which serves as a reminder that while products or services have to satisfy a real need, marketing works when it captures your curiosity.
Filed under: Anniversary, Australia, Childhood, Dad, Emotion, Experience, Family, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Paul, Respect, Travel, Trust
So at 10:34 am today, it will be the 25th anniversary of my Dad dying.
25 years since that early Saturday morning call, urging Mum and I to get to the hospital quickly.
25 years since we were rushed straight to his bedside.
25 years since I heard my Mum gently tell him it was OK to go.
25 years since we witnessed his final breath.
25 years since my world shattered.
For the first time.
You’d think that given I’ve lived almost half my life now without him, I’d have come to terms with him being gone.
And on one level I suppose I have.
I certainly don’t carry the same level of pain and loss as I did those first years.
But in some ways, I miss him even more.
Part of this is because the half of my life without him has been the half where so much in my life has happened.
The good, the bad, the weird, the disappointing, the stupid, the wonderful, the unexpected.
Also known as the part of life where a parent discovers if what they did, helped their kids become whoever they want to be.
In my case, I’ve talked a lot about how Dad – and Mum – supported me.
Not financially – because we didn’t have it – but emotionally.
Encouraging. Listening. Enquiring. Advising. Helping.
It’s important I point out they were not some passively-engaged pushovers. Oh no. They were very engaged and any major decision or choice I was considering was always met with a bunch of questions.
But the thing is, these were never to undermine, only to better understand.
For them, the most important thing was to learn what I wanted to do, why I wanted to do it and how I had come to that decision.
That was their only motivation.
But it’s what they did next that – having become older and a Dad myself – I now realise was an act of incredible parenting.
Because if they felt satisfied I’d given real thought to what I wanted to do and really cared about doing it, then – even if they didn’t completely agree with my choices – they would actively encourage my decision.
Said another way … they trusted they’d had given me the skills to make the right decisions and choices that worked for me.
It’s why they supported my decision to not go to university.
It’s why they supported my decision to become a studio musician.
It’s why after Dad had a terrible stroke, they told me to still go to Australia, because they knew if I didn’t go then, I’d likely never leave Nottingham at all.
If anyone can think of a more selfless act of love than that, I’d love to hear it.
Of course they made mistakes.
We had disagreements.
I disappointed them more than a few times.
But if things went wrong with the stuff I was trying to do, they never said, “I told you so”.
All I was ever met with was love and support.
Sure, after some time had passed they may have asked me what I learned from what I did – or didn’t – do.
And occasionally – when Mum was out of earshot – Dad would ask what the hell I had been thinking when something had gone particularly bad/daft … but I was never made to feel I was stupid or had disappointed them, even when I know I probably had disappointed them.
It’s part of the reason I felt such an obligation to make my adventure to Australia count.
There were some tough, horrible times, not helped by the fact Dad was very ill and Mum had had to give up her job to look after him 24/7.
Yet every time I said I’d come home because Dad had got worse or I felt Mum was struggling under the weight of pressure and responsibility, they said [through Mum] “we miss you so much, but we don’t want you to come back until you’re ready and we don’t think you’re ready”.
And as much as I missed them and longed to be with them – and I feel a bit horrified to say this – they were right. I wasn’t ready. Not really. I was exploring and discovering life. Exploring and discovering me … which means they were as correct in their view as they were when they thought if I didn’t go to Australia when I’d originally planned, I’d most likely never leave Nottingham – let alone England.
Not because of guilt or duty, but – as uncool as it may sound – because I loved my parents dearly and never needed much of an excuse to want to be near them.
And despite them knowing this … despite them going through arguably the most challenging time of their life … despite them knowing they would miss me massively … they decided what they wanted wasn’t as important as what they wanted for me.
So with a breathtaking amount of love and sacrifice, they encouraged me to leave my family, my home, my city and my country … believing there was more for me outside of Nottingham than Nottingham offered for me.
Just to be clear, we loved Nottingham.
I loved it as a kid and I still love it now.
But – as my parents suspected – the life I’ve been able to live is a life that is much bigger than the one I’d have probably had if I’d stayed where I was. Especially given where Nottingham – and the UK for that matter – was at that point in time.
I’m not saying it would have been a bad life.
I’m not saying anyone is wrong if they have chosen another option.
But there was obviously a strong desire in me to explore – driven by an Australian woman I’d met – as I spent a year planning the possibilities of the trip before I even broached the subject with Mum and Dad about wanting to go.
And that’s why I felt so strongly that I had to squeeze every possibility out of it when they told me to still go.
In many ways, it was my way of repaying them for the the love and encouragement they’d given – and always given – me, with my bigger life decisions.
My view was that if I was going to be away from my wonderful parents, then the least I could do was to make it something they could feel was worthwhile … and by worthwhile, I mean something that represented living a life of fulfilment.
Now I’ve written a lot about that in the past and now, 25 years later, I hope I have – and continue to – do just that.
I know Dad would have been thrilled I’d lived around the world … found someone who loves me as much as I love them … had experienced the sheer joy of becoming a father myself … of loving Otis with all I’ve got … and, on top of all that, had managed to have and enjoy some sort of career – even though I know he’d have found it utterly, utterly bizarre. [By which I mean he’d have found the job I do bizarre, not that I had managed to have a career]
I admit, when I moved back to the UK after 25+ years away, I did question this. I wondered why I would come ‘home’ when my parents had passed.
But then I remembered they knew I loved them, they knew I was there at their final moments and – at least in Mum’s case – they knew literally everything in my life, except my friendship with Paul, was because of the adventure I went on. The adventure they enabled and encouraged me to do.
And while I would do anything to have just one more day with them both, this lets me feel I made – and am making – the most of it for them.
Not because they wanted that, but because I know they wanted that for me.
So thank you.
Thank you for the stuff you did and the stuff you never even know you did.
Thank you for it all.
Every single thing.
Because it’s no exaggeration to say all I have has something to do with you.
Maybe it was a nod at the right time.
Or a nudge. Or a word of encouragement.
Or the right questions. Or the needed hug.
It all mattered.
It all still matters.
You helped me believe in myself when I didn’t believe in myself.
You still do.
What a gift.
I’ll keep striving to make it all worth while.
For me. But especially for you.
For another 25 years at least.
I miss you Dad. And Mum.
Love you.
Rx
Filed under: Advertising, Apathy, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, Bank Ads, Communication Strategy, Context, Corporate Evil, Culture, Customer Service, Loyalty, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Money, Perspective
Another day … another rant.
Whereas yesterday I went off at a brand I love/d, today is different.
It’s a bank.
Not just any bank … but a bank who once made me fly from Singapore to Sydney because they insisted they could check my passport ‘by sight’ before they released our funds for us to buy our house.
I should point out they weren’t our mortgage lender … they just wanted to make life very difficult for us and when I rang their ‘helpline’, I was told:
“No one is going to help you here”
Yes ladies and gentlemen, I’m talking about ANZ Australia.
A bank only second to my nemesis – HSBC – for terrible behaviour, which for anyone who knows the hell that HSBC put us through when we lived in China, will know this means ANZ Australia aren’t too crash hot in my opinion.
So what have they done this time? This …
Why the hell are they writing like they’re doing their customers a massive favour saying they’ll keep paying them interest – “even if you make a withdrawal or can’t make a deposit that month” – when your base rate is 0.01%.
ZERO POINT ZERO ONE PERCENT.
To put that in context, if you had AU$10,000,000 … you’d make $1,000 over a year.
Banks charge you for holding your money.
They charge you for using your money.
They close branches to give worse customer service.
They ask you to deal with your own financial issues via the internet.
They find any reason and way to be able to increase their fees.
Many got bailed out – or helped – by our tax dollars.
And then they offer you an interest rate that is so below the current rate of inflation that their ‘financial advice’ equates to literally having less money than you started with and they act like you should be grateful to them for it.
What the fuck?
Either they don’t care or they’re totally delusional.
No wonder people are open to things like crypto … because however much of a risk it is, at least there’s a chance – however small – you may get something out of it, which 0.01% is not going to offer.
Seriously ANZ Australia … stop taking your customers for fools.
As the old adage states, ‘action speaks louder then words’ and your actions continually reinforce you’re about the money not the service. And you know what, I think everyone would have a better opinion of you if you just owned up to that.
We need you and you will charge us for that privilege.
I get it. And – ironically – I’d think more of you for doing that than this ‘helpful and considerate’ tone you’re trying to present. Or even more bizarrely, maybe believe.
I get no one wants to admit they’re an asshole, but regardless what your ‘brand tracking’ and focus groups say, most people think you’re a great dump of calculator catastrophe.