Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Birkenstocks, Colleagues, Confidence, Culture, Daddyhood, Death, Doctor, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fear, Happiness, Health, Jill, Love, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Perspective, Socks
Back in November of last year, I wrote about how I was eating healthy.
It was quite a big thing for me to talk about – which is weird, given I have absolutely no problem writing about death, unemployment or the size of my best friends appendage, to name but a few of the subjects I’ve waxed lyrical about that many smarter people would rather shut-up than share.
But since then, more things have happened and while I genuinely feel uncomfortable to write it, I am also quite proud of myself, so here we go.
You see what happened was back in August, my doctor asked me to spend 3 months focusing on my health. To try and retrain my habits. To make different choices about my diet. To see what might happen by doing it.
And while I’ve been a helpless – and willing – slave to the seductive powers of pasta and sugar for basically my whole life … I decided this was the time I was going to go all in.
So I did.
65g of carbs a day. 25g of sugar a day. 1700 calories a day.
Every day.
And while it was hard at first, once I knew what I could do – and eat – it was satisfying. Well … more satisfying than I imagined. And that only grew when the results of those first 3 months came in.
I’d lost 22kg.
I’d dropped 4 sizes in clothes.
I saw every one of my health measures hit ‘healthy’.
My doctor called to ask if I was OK as the results were so extreme, he thought either the original results were inaccurate or I was doing a different sort of damage to myself.
[For the record, he was wrong on both counts – I was just in a very intimate relationship with chicken and spinach]
And as good as all that was – and it was very good – the biggest change was that I have started to like myself for the first time in a long time.
Yes, I appreciate that sounds tone deaf and dramatic given there are people who face real challenges and problems, whereas I have an amazing family, a wonderful life and lifestyle and a rewarding and fulfilling job … but it’s true.
In my defence, I didn’t really realise it until I started coming out the other side. Mainly because I think the impact was over time … slowly but surely, bit by bit … until at some point, it found a way to settle permenantly just under my surface.
And while it only popped up to mess with me at certain times and moments – and I suspected what may be behind it all – it is only recently that I was able to confirm my concerns about my health, maybe more than my actual health, was the cause of it.
Or should I say, the concerns about my sub-optimal health.
Just to be clear, what I’m talking about is self-esteem.
God it’s a weird thing.
It’s in your power and yet you’re also powerless to it and I felt I was in its grip.Putting me in a corner that I didn’t think I could get out of so I adapted my ways and choices to try and counteract it, without realising I was just giving it more power over me in more ways.
Which is why as I have got more in control of my health, I have felt a bit of a rebirth.
A bit more confidence about what I can do.
A bit more happiness about who I am.
From the superficial to the deeply, deeply personal.
Part of this is because I’m now wearing smaller sized clothes than I have in literally decades and I’m almost ashamed at how much that has affected me. Of course, it’s also bankrupting me as I have to basically buy new t-shirts that no longer look like I’m wearing a man tent dress … but it has changed more than just the size, but what I choose. Because frankly, more things are now available to me and so I’m experimenting with clothes like I’m a 10 year old kid. Well, I say experimenting, but it really has come down to a few t-shirts in colours that aren’t black and some socks [which is, let’s be honest, already a shock given my Birkenstock obsession] in a range of ridiculous colours. Fuck, I even colour coded my t-shirt and socks once … something never ever done in my life. And – to be honest – never to be done again.
But it is in terms of my family that I am the most indebted.
Because I’ve likely increased the time I’ll be here for my wife and son.
OK, so there wasn’t a identified risk that was going to cut it short … but health is always going to make it last longer and that means everything to me.
Because I love my family.
Love every little thing about them.
Of course they can annoy the fuck out of me, but I am sure I am far worse to them – even though this shocks me as I’m obviously a saint.
But as my son is just 9, I want to be around for as long as I can. I want to see the life he builds, I want to be there for the choices he wants to make. I want to just be in his life and have him in mine for as long as possible. With my wonderful wife by my side. Building new adventures and sharing them. Together.
Now I appreciate that all sounds very Hallmark card … but I do, that’s maybe all I want in some ways … and I’d be denying the truth if I said I hadn’t wondered if this was going to be as possible as I hoped it would be.
And yet … I felt it was an impossible situation to change.
I wanted it.
I knew what could help it.
But I didn’t have the skills or the energy or the willpower. Always having an excuse why I couldn’t dedicate the time and energy to it. Which is mad given I have a fuck-ton of energy and willpower to do a bunch of other stuff … but I had convinced myself that I’d met my match and so that affected me deeply in my head. Loving my family but not knowing how to make sure that love could be around for longer.
I know, it sounds pathetic, but I bet I am not the only one who has faced this psychological prison. And just to be clear, it’s not that I hadn’t tried things to change it. I had. And failed … over and over again. Which not only made me feel a bit more shit about myself, but also convinced myself I was not going to win this battle.
Which is why the pride Otis has in what I’ve done that makes me almost cry with joy. And what breaks my heart is that he obviously had the same worries about how long I’d be around. Not overtly. Not daily. But he tells me how proud he is of me and how happy he is I’m ‘healthy’ … and so while no one knows when the ‘end day’ will come, removing some of the more blatant concerns that it could be sooner than you hope, is a psychological gift in itself.
Now I am not going to say if I can do it, anyone can.
I couldn’t do it for 53 years and you don’t have to be healthy to be happy.
I hate that attitude.
And I was happy … I’m just saying I’m happier now.
With myself.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t have issues – I do, bloody loads of them – but it means I have less than I’ve been carrying, which is nice.
In fact, as of today, I have 30kg less problems I’m carrying – ha.
But let’s not ignore the reality that doing this is really fucking hard – especially at the start – and I needed a Doctor to basically scare me into it and needed to actively choose to not make excuses for not sticking with it. Which is why if anyone resonates with my story and wants to chat about their situation – or what I did to try and get out of it – then just get in touch and I’ll listen and share.
While there is a conscious mental decision to be made, at its heart it’s simply about food choices and portion choices. Oh, and investment … both in time and – sadly – money.
Because it’s a privilege to be able to do this, because – ironically – eating less costs more. Or it does if you want to make it easier.
But the good news is there’s choices that actually are good … and you’re talking to someone who thinks kebab and chips is fine dining. So if you want to know more, I’ll tell you what worked for me and how I did it and then you can decide what’s right for you.
Which leaves me to say a huge thanks to my family, doctor, clients, colleagues and whoever the fuck invented 99% sugar free buffalo sauce … because they made this happen. They made this possible,
And while I may fuck up occasionally, I now know I won’t fuck up every single mealtime and that’s a win in my book, because this journey has taught me things about myself and my habits that have been a revelation.
In fact the only thing I am disappointed about is I’ve still not used the overpriced bloody treadmill I bought. Though I’m glad I got the cool, foldable, wifi and bluetooth enabled one … which means there’s some things about me that will never change.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Birkenstocks, Brand, Brilliant Marketing Ideas In History, Cannes, Communication Strategy, Context, Creativity, Culture, Dysgraphia, Empathy, EvilGenius, Fear, Holiday, Imagination, Marketing, Martin Weigel, Otis, Paula
So I’m back.
And after an October where I went to Fiji, Australia, China and America … November is wonderfully static.
Don’t get me wrong, I love travelling … but that was ridiculous.
For all the talk of how COVID would change the way companies would work and interact, I’m meeting more and more people who are travelling more than they did pre-pandemic.
And that’s scary for a whole lot of reasons.
Personal, environmental, commercial.
Scarier than the that day where ghosts and ghouls are supposed to come out and haunt us. Also known as the day kids keep coming to your door demanding sweets.
Yes … that’s a terrible link to the point of this post, but I wrote it to originally appear on Halloween, but then I went to the US and missed my chance, so here we go.
Halloween in NZ is definitely less full-on than the US.
Oh my god … they love holidays and Halloween is one they embrace full-on.
When we lived in Manhattan Beach … it was like a community event.
The whole street would basically come out, all dressed in god-knows what, embracing the mood and the moment.
Obviously I hate that level of sociability … but even I got caught up in it, buying a ridiculously sized baby head from a shop, which I tried on in the car before casually looking to my right and seeing [1] I was next to a bank and [2] I had a security guard looking at me as if I was going to rob the joint.
Good times. Ahem.
Anyway, to keep with the ‘scary’ mood, Otis recently became the proud owner of these …
Yep … Crocs.
Fucking Crocs.
I know we talked about them recently in our ‘Strategy is constipated, imagination is the laxative’ talk … I know I have some sort of grudging respect that they are cool with charging $8 for each ‘personalised attachment’ you can add to the shoes … I know, with Otis’ dysgraphia, they are much easier for him to put on than many others … I know I can’t talk with my love of Birkies … but, but, but THEY’RE FUCKING CROCS.
Seriously, compared to them, Birkenstocks are liked pieces of art.
And yet they continue to live.
To thrive.
Like cockroaches of the footwear category.
Which means I have to salute their brand management and imagination.
Which is better than 99% of brands out there.
Which is why we put them in our Cannes talk.
And why I felt scared enough to put them in a post that was supposed to appear on halloween.
Filed under: Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Birkenstocks, China, Chinese Culture, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Nike, Relationships, Relevance, Resonance, Respect, Sport, Wieden+Kennedy
One of the great pleasures of my career has been working with NIKE.
What made it even more memorable is that I got to work with them in China … where the challenge and opportunity to develop sport culture was arguably their number one priority.
What it meant was their best people were there and their most senior global management were constantly there so I got to meet them, work with them, present to them and argue with them on a regular basis.
They were good.
As in proper good.
I still remember the first time I met the most senior of senior management and when back to Wieden and said, “Oh, I totally get why they are who they are”.
And I did.
They were incredible.
Sharp. Focused. Ambitious. Progressive and obsessed with culture, sport and creativity.
Then there was the time I met Rosemary.
She had just come to China from the US and I remember being in a meeting where I saw all the global guys go up to her, when normally you saw people go up to them.
I mentioned this to her when we were having a coffee later that week and she eventually admitted the reason they all knew her was because she had been Phil Kinght’s kids babysitter when he was starting the company and she had actually painted the swoosh on the first shoes they produced.
Amazing.
As was her knowledge of the brand.
The nuance, not the headlines.
Underpinning all of these people was a backbone of belief. A pride of who they are matched with a responsibility for where they were going. They were challenging, demanding and questioning … but you always knew it was to get to great rather than to tear you down.
Frankly I’d not seen anything like that, at that level, before – and being old – I had been exposed to some amazing people within organisations.
I will be eternally grateful to Simon and Steve who both invited me in to meetings and discussions I should never have been in … as well as them not killing me when I turned up in my Birkies.
Now it is fair to say, the brand – for all the success it continues to have – has faced some headwinds. Some are shifts in culture, some are shifts in internal culture.
And while there are many opinions and viewpoints flying about, there are many who say the company they are today is not the same company they once were.
Some of that is good, some … well, probably less so.
Too many amazing people have departed.
Too much focus on sales rather than sport.
Too great an emphasis on optimisation rather than progression.
But the great thing about Nike is they always come back.
Sure, some of the things – and people – that allow that to happen are no longer there, but it will be back because this is not the first time they’ve gone through something like this.
Whatever ‘this’ is.
And recently I saw a clue it was starting, bizarrely from someone at McKinsey of all places.
This:
Cool, isn’t it?
But not because of Adam’s interpretation of why it exists, but because it exists.
Someone did this.
Someone chose to do this.
And while there are a whole host of possible reasons why it happened, to me it’s a sign of a brand that still has people in there – beyond the few left I know/work with – who do what they believe is right rather than what their process now dictates they do.
At its best, Nike was always an infectious culture machine.
Making it. Championing it. Enabling it. Fighting for it.
I’ve not seen that as much as I once did.
Maybe, a txt.file is a sign I will.
I hope so.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Birkenstocks, China, Crap Products In History, Culture, Customer Service, Experience, Food, Marketing Fail, Singapore
You might just be getting over the shock of yesterdays post, where I showed the world I was wearing shoes.
Real shoes.
Proper, proper shoes.
Well hold on to your hats because it’s going to get worse.
As many of you know, I have had a long, long, long, long, long time love affair with Taiwanese restaurant, Din Tai Fung.
I have been there so many times.
Literally hundreds.
The food is amazing.
The service is amazing.
The whole thing is amazing.
It’s the first restaurant I took my son to.
It’s the first restaurant we went to when we moved to LA.
It’s the first restaurant I looked forward to going to when we moved to the UK.
Now, to be honest, the food wasn’t quite the same in LA compared to China/Asia.
Don’t get me wrong, it was nice … but some of the ‘classics’ had been adapted to American tastes.
A bit sweeter.
A little less spicy.
But I could deal with it because apart from the free soda refills, it’s Din Tai Fung and that’s all that matters.
OR SO I THOUGHT.
You see when we moved to London, the restaurant had not yet opened.
In the 3 months between moving here and the doors opening, I had told everyone – and I mean EVERYONE – how this was going to change their life.
Well, we went … and I was right, it did change my life.
FOR THE WORSE.
I know … this is possibly even more shocking than the Birkenstock situation.
You see, while they had food that was on all their menus around the World, it was a poor imitation of it.
Worse, the sizes were smaller … it was less well cooked … it was served by people who were severely lacking in the kind, seamless service I had come to expect and a shedload more expensive.
As you can see from the receipt, a meal for my wife, 4 year old son and me was over £100.
ONE HUNDRED POUNDS.
No booze … no excessive amounts of ordering … and yet it cost about twice as much as my biggest ever order in China and trust me, that was a huuuuuuuuge order.
Now I get London is more expensive than China.
I get people in London may not have a frame of reference for what Din Tai Fung should be.
But it utterly destroyed me.
I went in their with such high hopes and came out disappointed and dismayed.
OK, so they have just opened and may still be having teething problems … but sadly, I doubt that is the real reason. As in the fashion with many companies trying to duplicate the success of one thing, they tend to focus on the ‘big things’ to copy and completely miss – or ignore – the small.
The details that make the big things sing.
While I’ll give them one more chance, the reality is I fully expect I won’t be back until I am back in Asia and while that might not sound a big thing, the fact they have lost such a massively loyal customer should be of concern to them.
Sadly I doubt they’d even care.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Birkenstocks, Comment
… then have a look at this.
They’re not just my feet in that photo.
But my shoes.
AND THEY’RE NOT BIRKENSTOCKS!
I know … I bloody know.
Don’t worry though, I’ve not suddenly come to my senses regarding footwear relevant … the fact is [1] it’s bloody cold in London – though I appreciate that never stopped me in the past [2] they were free – as are the multitude of lovely NIKE’s I’m also now in possession of and [3] apparently wearing birkies for 25+ years none-stop is not great for your back so I’ve been ordered to wear proper shoes for a bit.
Please note the words ‘a bit’ because once the sun comes out [which I appreciate in London, is not often] I’ll be back to insulting the eyes and tastes of England’s most populous city.