Filed under: 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Aspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Creativity, Culture, Emotion, Gaming, Luxury, Management, Marketing
I’ve written a lot about AI over the years.
I’ve questioned the rationale behind many companies adoption of it.
I’ve challenged the level of trust we should be placing in it.
I’ve criticized the people who are behind so much of it.
And I’ve enquired what the future of capitalism can be if they keep outsourcing jobs to it.
But even then, I am not against AI.
I think it is incredible and powerful tool that can have a truly positive effect for society if used and legislated for, properly.
For example, its impact on medical research has already been huge … and we’re still in the early days of the technology.
But that doesn’t mean I think all companies and categories are using it well.
Or using it for any other reason that [often misplaced] financial benefit.
It’s partly why I believe/hope we will see greater value and aspiration given to companies who invest in craft rather than self-serving convenience. It’s also why I am happy-as-hell the guys at Rockstar will make an absolute fortune from their latest masterpiece.
Not just because of what it is, but – as explained in the image at the top of this page – because of how they made it.
Though, I should admit, one of the other reasons I wish them so well is because I know one of R*’s founders and hope it means he’ll pay for our next dinner together rather than what happened last time when he ‘forgot his credit card’.
👋🏻 Sam.
Filed under: 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Cars, Dad, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Friendship, Love, My Childhood, New York, Paul
So recently I talked about how I was in New York I saw a bunch of things that triggered some deep nostalgia in me.
First was the bank of payphones at JFK airport … but then there were 2 cars.
The first was this bright yellow VW Golf soft-top.
On one level, it stood out simply because it’s bright yellow and it was a super sunny day.
But it was more than that …
Because not only did it seem to encapsulate what I thought America was like – specifically California, based on various TV shows I would watch as a kid – but it reminded me of what Paul’s Mum drove when we were growing up.
OK, so hers was more mustard than yellow, as I remember it.
And it was most definitely not a stop top … not in bloody Nottingham.
But they were the first family I ever knew that had TWO cars and that was the one that would ferry Paul and I to various activities as we grew up … so it is almost entirely associated with positive memories.
Of course, part of the reason my feelings towards this car were so positive is likely because of it’s excellent condition. It meant I didn’t have to face how old it was which meant I just connected to how present and perfect it was.
Which kind-of explains why this other car stopped me in my tracks as I was walking down a backstreet in Chelsea.
That is a Jaguar XJ-S.
Another old car in utterly excellent condition.
At the time it came out, it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
Sure, now I know it was influenced by their iconic E-Type, but as a kid it was like it had come out of outerspace.
Powerful … sleek … aggressive yet sophisticated. It was a car that was seemingly designed for the rich, famous and fast living, so it was no surprise when Simon Templar – from the British TV show, Return Of The Saint – drove one in every episode.
As a kid, The Saint was cool as fuck.
Sure, 40+ years later I realise he’s basically a Temu-James Bond character … but back then, I wasn’t old enough to watch Bond movies, so The Saint was the closest thing I had to an accessible, real-life-relevant TV/Movie hero.
So you can imagine my glee when my Uncle Andrew turned up at our house one day driving an XJ-S as his new company car. [He was a high-flying sales manager for American Express, which is why he got this beast compared to classic company car of the age, the Ford Escort]
OH MY GOD … it was like a movie star had come to visit us.
But it got even better, because Uncle Andrew said my Dad could take it for a drive …
HOLY FUCK!!!
So even though it was quite late, I was allowed to squeeze in the backseat – while still wearing my pyjamas – while Dad positioned himself in the drivers seat, accompanied by his brother-in-law before we sped off.
And while we were only gone for about 10 minutes, one part of that one-off trip is burned into my memory.
Dad drove us down the ring road and as we approached the roundabout, I remember him saying to Andrew:
“The brakes are a bit spongy”
To which my Uncle leaned over to see the speedo and said,
“That’s because you’re doing 100mph”.
My Dad was both shocked and impressed, whereas I – on the other hand – was in awe, both of the car and my Dad.
ONE HUNDRED MILES AN HOUR.
IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE!!!
You have to understand, our family car was – if memory serves me – either a bottom of the range Ford Escort, a bottom of the range Leyland Marina or an absolutely horrific Fiat 128 … or said another way, a car that couldn’t hit 100mph even if you were going down a steep hill with a tail wind behind you and even if it could, it would be so loud and the car so shakey, that your body would be crushed to smithereens before you reached a stop. But here we were, in a car that was not only able to reach ‘rocket speed’, but was able to do it with such smoothness and luxury that you didn’t even realise what was going on. Basically, you imagined it was what Concorde would be like it it had 4 wheels and could go on British roads.
I can’t remember what year this happened but I remember every bit of what happened which is why when I saw that Jaguar XJ-S on the street, it immediately took me back to that night. With my Dad. Sharing a moment neither of us ever had experienced before.
A bonding moment that I treasured then and treasure even more now.
Which is why – whoever the owner of that Jag is – thank you. You gave me a chance to have a little road trip with my Dad in NYC and I’ll forever be grateful for that.
Filed under: 2026, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis
I’m not back, but today would have been my Dad’s 88th birthday so I had to mark the occasion.
Eighty Eight!!
That means he’s been gone 28 years. Or said another way, literally half my life.
HALF! That is both wild and seemingly impossible.
And yet it’s true, which is why I’m extra happy he’s been in my thoughts a lot recently. Not that he was ever out-my-mind, but his presence has been more – errrrm – present and I like it.
I loved being an only child.
I was spoilt with love, support, care and attention.
I never wanted for brothers or sisters and always adored the company of Mum and Dad.
Even during my angst-ridden teenage years.
I feel extremely grateful for that … though it was only when I saw the relationship some of my friends had with their parents, that I truly sppreciated how lucky I was.
Which is why when my parents died, the loss was overwhelming.
In some ways, it felt like I experienced their death twice.
Because while Dad was first and Mum followed 16 years later – there was a moment immediately after Mum was gone that I truly realized – and felt – that I was truly alone.
It felt weird and sad and scary …
A strange mix of abandonment and feeling like an orphan.
It was a very challenging time, even though I was an adult with my own family.
In fact, if it wasn’t for them, I genuinely wonder how long it would have taken for me to feel I had got back on an even keel, because even with them, it took years.
The thing with death – as I’ve written many times before – is that while people are very supportive towards you at the moment of loss, within 24 hours they have generally all moved on with their lives. That’s not meant as a diss … they have their own issues and challenges to deal with … but the impact of that is you feel even more alone.
But if I think I had it bad when Dad died, my poor Mum had it worse.
Not only had she lost her husband of 35 years – a man she had been taking care of 24/7 for over 3 years after he suffered multiple debilitating strokes – she also saw her only son leave her to go back to Australia where he lived.
When I try to put into words the sense of isolation and loss I felt when I realized I no longer had any ‘real world’ parental support, I think of how Mum must have felt those first few days after losing Dad and feel so sad that maybe I didn’t really understand it until too late.
Didn’t really understand it till I wrote this post.
But as I said, my Dad – and Mum – have been on my mind a lot recently.
Or should I say, part of my energy.
It’s given me a real sense of comfort and warmth rather than just a feeling of loss.
They come up in conversation.
Everyday moments trigger good, funny and special memories with them.
When I talk about them, it in a weird blend of past and present tense.
Put simply, it’s lovely.
A feeling I’m closer to them than I’ve been in years.
Of course, I would do anything to still have them around … have them be part of my life and my families … share, experience and build more moments and memories … but as dead parents go, this is quite a wonderful period I am having with them.
Which is why today – on what would be Dad’s 88th birthday – I won’t just be thinking of him and feeling the loss of him not being around any longer, I’ll be talking to him and letting him know that despite being gone half my life, the love and impact he had on me for those first 26 years of my life still have a grip of comfort, adoration and respect.
Which as proof of doing a good job as a parent goes, is pretty much the pinnacle.
So happy birthday Dad. I still feel very lucky I get to call you that.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Corporate Gaslighting, Creativity, Culture, Data, Emotion, Experience, Humanity, Management, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Marketing Practice, Marketing Science, Technology, Toxic Positivity, Transformation
Before I start, I want to acknowledge David, Dave and Andy because today is the 25th anniversary of 9/11.
And while I know that terrible, terrible day resides deeply in their everyday … it’s a significant anniversary and so the memories, pain and loss may feel even deeper to them today.
So know I’m thinking of you.
It was special seeing all of you.
I send big hugs to each of you.
Love you.
OK, let’s get on with the rant …
Years ago, I – and, ironically, David, Dave and Andy – worked for the founder of a very successful company who was obsessed with how his customers and lowest level employees felt, experienced and interacted with the brand.
He had seen far too many organisations manage senior leadership through pandering, toxic positivity and managing-up and was determined that was not going to happen to his company.
His view was the only way to keep improving was to know what’s going on … and the only way to know what’s going on is to ensure the people with the authority to change stuff, saw life from the perspective of the coalface.
Not occasionally.
Not via carefully orchestrated engagement.
But shoulder-to-shoulder and eye-to-eye with their people and customers.
It’s why his C-Suite were mandated to always travel economy, rather than business. Not because he didn’t care about the comfort of his most senior executives, but because he cared even more about the experience of his people abd customers as well as the standards and behaviour of his brand.
It’s part of the reason he saw the generous salaries he – and his C-Suite – were paid was about responsibility.
Not to the shareholders, but to their customers and employees.
Put simply, he believed the job of the most senoir management was to actively protect the standards, values and aspiration of the brand for the customers they serve and the people they employee.
His premise for it was simple. If you look after them, they’ll look after the shareholders.
It’s why he didn’t tolerate convenient answers.
It’s why he utterly loathed generalistic perspectives.
It’s why he vehemently rallied against outsourcing blame or responsibility.
And it’s why he demanded people spent time in the coalface, rather than looking down at it.
Over the years, I’ve had a few clients who behaved that way – and, unsuprisingly, they tended to command the greatest love and loyalty from customers and employees alike.
But these days it seems it is becoming less and less common, prefering – instead – to use data points to inform than actual experience.
And while it can be argued there are more ways to measure more things than there has ever been before, there’s 3 fundamental flaws with this approach:
1. It relies on people knowing what they’re measuring.
2. It relies on people knowing why they’re measuring it.
3. It relies on people knowing what the findings are saying and – more importantly – aren’t.
And while you may think this is obvious – which it is or should be – the reality is, it happens less than you think.
There are many reasons for this – from politics to convenience to different interpretations of industry language and definitions – but blindly accepting data-points without the counterbalance of real and raw human knowledge and experience means what you think is clarity ends up being commercial confusion.
A perfect example is from Sir Alex Ferguson, the legendary manager of Manchester United.
Back in 2001, Sir Alex Ferguson decided it was time for the defender, Jaap Stam, to leave Manchester United..
Stam was at his professional peak and considered one of the best defenders in the world, but Ferguson decided it was time for him to go.
The decision was made after Ferguson took look at Stam’s performance data.
On close inspection, Ferguson saw the then 29 year old defender was tackling less and less and concluded he was past his prime and now was the time to move him on. He was subsequently sold to Lazio.
And to be fair, the data was correct, Stam was tackling less … however it was not because he was past his prime, it was because he had got better at defending.
Put simply, Stam’s positioning had got so good he did not need to tackle so much … he was dealing with the opposition attackers before it got to a point where he needed to tackle them as a last-resort kind-of measure.
So while the data was right, it lacked context and Sir Alex Ferguson didn’t think to question it or challenge it.
In essence, he momentarily forgot what the objective of the defender is, because it’s not about tackling, it’s about protecting the goal … but the data had obstructed his view and resulted in him taking the information at face-value, resulting in him viewing the declining amount of tackles as weakness, when it was actually a symbol of strength and progress.
This is not to say data is not important. Of course it is. It helps provide light on issues and subjects that may otherwise pass unseen until far too late. But the problem is it temps us – and is positioned to us as – speaking directly to our needs.
Where the claim is it provides all the information we need to make simple binary choices or decisions.
Forget context.
Forget questioning.
Forget understanding.
And definitely forget anything that challenges or states otherwise.
Simply make your choice and the most effective and efficient outcome is yours.
That’s where we are folks … a cross between Stockholm Syndrome and group Gas Lighting … but at least it helps explains why there’s such reluctance for companies to actually engage and interact with real people.
The people who work for them.
The people who buy from them.
The people who give a shit about who they are and what they do.
The problem with the industry – every industry – is we are subservient to data. We treat it like the second-coming of Christ. We have started to believe it can bestow us with miracles, when half the time we don’t even know where it came from, let alone what it’s actually saying.
Again, I am not anti-data, but I am anti-data blinkeredness.
It’s why I wonder how many corporate leaders spend any meaningful time on the streets of the customers and/or the shop-floors of their employees … rather than spending hours sitting around a boardroom table commenting on sales data and focus group reports that they’ve not actually read, don’t really understood and never question how they were compiled or what they were trying to uncover.
At a time where every conversations around business seems to be about maximising optimisation and performance data points, maybe the most valuable form of AI any C-Suite can engage in, is the promotion and consideration of real Audience Interaction.
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PS: I am going to be in the US for most of next week, so enjoy the weekend knowing you won’t have to read my clap-trap until probably Thursday. You’re welcome.
Filed under: 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Career, Children, Comment, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Love, Loyalty, Mental Health, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, R/GA
This is my last post for a week because I’m away for the next 10 days.
I know. Again.
And as ridiculous as my travel itinerary has been this year, this trip is the most ridiculous of them all.
Not for where I’m going, but why.
And with whom I’ll be rubbing shoulders with.
But that’s for another day – especially as this post is earnest-as-fuck and my trip is arguably superficial-as-hell [even though it’s not] – so I’ll see you a week on Tuesday and until then, remember that sometimes the best way to show you care about someone is to not do anything special for them.
Read on, it will hopefully explain all …
So as toxic as social media is, there are still moments where good things shine through – and I saw one of them this week.
It’s this:
Now whether this is a real message or not – I’m not sure. But what I do know is it not only reflects the sort of situation many people are experiencing right now, but it’s how I hope I’d respond if Otis ever found himself in a similar situation.
Too often – especially with parents, or more specifically male parents – we try to ‘fix’ problems that our loved ones face. And while it no doubt comes from a good place, sometimes all we need to provide is reassurance that we love them, we’re proud of them and we empathise with the situation they face but don’t judge them for it.
No pressure.
Not expectations.
No forcing yourself into their situation.
Just love, empathy and – I can’t stress this enough – normality.
If you’ve done a good job with your kids, they will hopefully work it out for themselves or ask for some help if they can’t. And while being interested in what they’re interested in is important – that doesn’t extend to making demands of them or adding additional pressure to them.
This is even more important when a child is in a situation they didn’t ask for or hope for … of which losing a job is one of those situations.
Too often redundancy suggests the individual failed, rather than the company.
This is not by accident.
Companies love to suggest this narrative as it means the focus of attention is on the individual rather than the organization and the shame attached to redundancy keeps the person quiet so the company can act in public like all is well.
I talked about this in The Observer Newspaper back in 2020 when when I found myself being made redundant by R/GA … and while my ex-employer generally treated me OK, I still heard comments from people that seemed to suggest I should feel embarrassed I lost my job and was being professionally irresponsible speaking so openly about it.
Look, no one wants to lose their job, but it happens – and it’s going to happen a fuckload more as corporates increasingly value short-term profits over long-term trust and responsibility – which is why my attitude at the time was the more people knew I was on the market, the more likely I would find someone who wanted to take me off it.
And I was lucky because that is exactly what happened.
But a lot has changed in the past 4+ years in terms of how companies operate … and given I have a young son who will one day need to find his own career path, I guess that’s why that Twitter/X message made such an impression on me.
But the real lesson in it is that it doesn’t matter how old you are … everyone needs to feel there is someone out there who sees – and values them – for who they are, not what job they have or what things they own.
That doesn’t mean you provide blind faith.
Nor does it mean you offer false promises or hope.
It simply means you know when the best thing you can do to show how much you care, is to do absolutely nothing special for them.
Because at a time where there is so much ‘performative’ compassion, sometimes, the greatest gift you can give someone is ‘mundane normality’.
Something I now realise my parents were also brilliant at doing.
See you on Tuesday the 27th.