Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Dad, Mum, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Parents, Paul
While I grew up in a very middle-class family, our income was definitely not.
There was never much money around and there were some seriously tough times.
One of them – the worst of them – will stay with me until I die. It was horrific and traumatic and had a huge influence in how I live my life.
I should point out none of this was not because my parents were out spending beyond their means. While they had good jobs, they didn’t get paid much at all and so they faced a constant battle to make ends meet.
Not that I knew any of this when I was young.
My parents ensured I never went without.
Only when I got older did I see what they sacrificed to ensure I didn’t have to.
It’s a big reason for my work ethic.
I know … I know … many of you think I haven’t got one, but I do. Honest.
And it’s not because I don’t want to be in the same position they found themselves in [I mean, I don’t … but it had nothing to do with their work ethic, which was huge] … it’s because I don’t want to feel all the sacrifices they made, were in vain.
That despite all that, all they ever wanted for me was to live a life of fulfillment is incredible.
Hell, they even backed me when I explained to them why I didn’t want to go to university – which was something I know was important for them.
It’s probably why I have been so open to living around the world … because deep down, it is something I imagine would have made my parents proud. Even more so given it has enabled me to forge a life free from many of the things they had to endure.
Because that’s another thing they wanted for me.
Security.
But not through the repetition of something I didn’t enjoy, but as a byproduct of something I did.
I’m 53 and still coming to terms with how amazing my parents are.
It’s also why I feel a bit guilty as to how I was as a kid.
Because I liked stuff.
Expensive stuff.
OK, by today’s standards it is nothing … but back in the early 70’s and 80’s, it was. Even more so when your parents didn’t earn much.
Raleigh Grifter. Tin Can Alley. Astro Wars. Etc etc.
I discovered a lot of it because of the Argos Catalogue.
My grandmother had it and when I went to see her, I read it religiously.
Cover to cover. Forwards and backwards.
For me it was like a bible … a portal to another world. One filled with possibilities and opportunities that I didn’t even know were a possibility.
The other way I found things I liked was through friends. Specifically, my best friend, Paul.
You see Paul had 2 things that inspired and influenced me.
One was an older brother and sister who owned things that were so outside my frame of reference, they could have been made by an alien lifeforce from the future.
The other was wealth.
Put simply, his parents were loaded.
They had TWO cars.
Their house had TWO bathrooms.
Their house had TWO televisions.
Their house had an electric organ annnnnnnnd, they had this.
Yep, that’s a Hostess trolley.
Actually that looks like the Hostess tray, which I assume came out prior to the trolley … which had room for plates, not just food.
For those who don’t know what it is, it’s a machine designed with compartments to keep different food warm.
Not in the kitchen … but at the table!!!
It’s like a hotel buffet … lift off the lid and the grab the warm food inside.
The advertising used to say, ‘The Hostess With The Mostest’. Which is shit, yet also ace.
Owning one could only mean one thing … you had events at your house where lots of people would come and eat and to me, that was peak-posh.
Now if I’m honest, I don’t know if I ever saw them actually ever use it – maybe for family Christmas, but that would be it – but the fact they had one and my parents wouldn’t even have enough plates to fill one, was a big sign to a little boy that his family were doing a hell of a lot better than we were.
If I’m honest, I kind of knew this already …
They would go out to dinner every week, we would go to a $4.99 Berni Inn steak and strawberry dinner once a year.
They went on overseas holidays every year whereas we didn’t go anywhere for year after year after year.
But I was never jealous – not even when Paul came back from HK with the first ever Casio Calculator watch. Not just because my parents made sure I didn’t go without – especially in terms of love – but because Paul’s family were/are like a second family to me.
[That said, I was jealous of his Fisher Price Garage, Speak & Spell and Race & Chase … but he let me use those a lot, so I got over it pretty quick]
However since someone sent me the picture above of the Hostess Trolley, I’m wondering if I’ve been keeping my jealousy deep down. Because despite having not seen or thought about that product since I was probably 10 years old, I really want it.
Not a new one, but one from the early 1980’s.
Not because we’d use it – and we wouldn’t have even turned it on if my parents had it – but because back in 1980, I saw that as a real symbol of status and I’d like to own one.
Ironically, not so I can feel ‘I’ve made it’, but to remind me what I used to think success was. Not to ridicule myself, but to be grateful and thankful to my parents for all they did for me, including keeping my feet – and taste – [mainly] on the bloody ground.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Bands, Bangkok Shakes, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Education, England, Jill, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Childhood, Nottingham, Parents
So on Sunday, my beloved Dad would have been 85.
Given he died at 60 – and I’m 53 – that means he has been gone for almost half of my life.
And in some ways it feels it.
Memories made up of different moments from the distant past.
But when anniversaries approach … the context changes.
Backgrounds become foregrounds … and despite all the years I’ve had to come to terms with things, they still have the power to take me on an incredibly emotional rollercoaster.
Part of that is because of our history … the other part is because of what I wish I could share and discuss.
He always had questions.
Not for judgement but connection.
OK, mainly for connection – hahaha.
And with so many things having happened in my life since he passed, I can only imagine all the things he’d want to know about.
God I’d love that.
I’d love to watch his eyes as he met my wife, my son …
Saw the life we live, have lived and plan to live.
Feel I’d made him proud.
Because so many of the decisions in my life have been driven by my desire to do just that. To feel my actions and behaviours would be things that made him feel a sense of pride.
Of course I’ve done stuff that would not come anywhere close to gaining that reaction, but in the main I think he would believe I’ve made him proud more times than I’ve disappointed him … but then my Dad, like my Mum, saw their role as encouraging me to always chase fullfilment rather than choose conformity or contentment.
And they did.
Sure, there were some gulps when I told them I didn’t want to go to university …
And when I was going to spend 10 years of savings all in one go on guitar amps …
But once they knew why I was making those decisions, they supported me.
Proper support. Encouragement. Interest. Help.
It was only when I was older that I realised how lucky I was, how this was not ‘normal’ parent behaviour.
So on what would be my Dad’s 85th birthday, I’d like to talk about a story of this encouragement.
I’ve written it before, but – to me – it’s a moment where his [and Mum’s] reaction changed the course of my life in a good way.
I was alright at school.
I was one of the cleverest in the thick bunch and one of the thickest in the clever bunch.
So basically bang in the middle.
But I worked hard. I put in effort. And the teachers knew I really tried.
However when it came to exams, I was a disaster.
Didn’t matter how hard I revised, the moment I was in a situation where I felt ‘everything came down to that moment’… I fell apart. While my parents did all they could to help – including getting me extra lessons – I now realise it was probably driven by anxiety … however in 1986, anxiety didn’t exist so while my school work continued to be good, exams still continued to be a major problem for me.
Nothing highlighted this more than when I was sent to the local careers advisor.
I told them I wanted to be a lawyer or a journalist [more on that in a minute] but the moment they looked at my projected qualifications – despite my solid schoolwork – they said:
“Have you considered a career in catering management”.
Now there is nothing wrong with catering management. I have some friends that work in that industry who love it. But even then I knew absolutely that it wasn’t for me. And at that moment, that careers advisor stamped all over the hopes and dreams I had for the future.
Aged just 16.
Of course I sort-of understand. They said what they saw from the ‘data’ in front of them … however while I appreciate they couldn’t give me any false hope, pointing me in a direction I had no interest in was equally as bad. Despite this all happening 37 years ago, I still remember the lack of interest he showed in understanding me. I was just another kid he was contractually obliged to see. Another kid he had to ‘tick off’ his register.
I left that building in a bit of a daze.
I caught the 45 bus back to Mum and Dad’s.
I remember the day because it was the day Andrew and Fergie got married.
It was sunny. Except in my head and heart.
Frankly I was devastated. I had – in my mind – been told the most I should aspire for was what I imagined at the time, a ‘mediocre’ life.
(I appreciate this would not be necessarily the case, but I was young and at the time, I just had my hopes crushed and so I only saw stuff in black and white)
When I got home, I found Dad in his chair watching the pomp and ceremony.
He loved the history of the Royal Family, but didn’t really love the Royals … so when he saw me, he could tell something was up. I tried to fake it at first. Put on a smile. Not just because I was trying to process what had just happened … but I didn’t want to disappoint him. But my Mum and Dad knew me well and so slowly I let things out.
I remember he listened intently. Taking it all in. And when I got to the point of ‘catering management’ he asked what I thought of that. And I probably cried … because it was absolultely not what I wanted to do.
And despite my family all being incredible lawyers, he asked, “why aren’t you looking at music?”
This was a revelation for a whole host of reasons.
One … the idea of a career in music was so far outside my frame-of-reference that it sounded even more crazy than me saying I wanted to become a lawyer.
Two … while I had been playing the guitar – and done some gigs for a few years – I always assumed my parents saw it as a hobby. Or worse, an educational distraction.
And if that wasn’t amazing enough, then he said something that changed my life.
He told me he loved me.
He told me exam results don’t define the future of me.
He told me a person who only spent 15 minutes with me knows nothing about me.
He told me history was littered with people who achieved more than others said they would.
He told me he wants me to chase what I’m passionate about, not what others want me to be passionate about.
He told me he sees how hard I work and how much I can – and have – achieved because of that hard work.
He told me he and Mum will always do what that can to support me.
He told me he was proud of me.
This is all I needed to hear. Because all I wanted was to be seen. Recognised for my effort and interests not just my school results. Actually that’s wrong, just seen for my exam results.
Of course I knew whatever I did wouldn’t be easy … but I never expected it to be. But here was my Dad – followed by my Mum when she came home from work – telling me he loved me and believed in me, despite what some careers officer thought … and that changed everything.
Within a few years, I got the 3rd highest mark in law across the country.
Within a few years I became a session guitarist for a bunch of 80’s popstars.
Within a few years I was in a band that signed a record deal with Virgin.
Within a few years I started a career in an industry that has helped me experience a life beyond my wildest dreams.
My Dad did that.
My Mum did that.
And in later life … my wife did that.
I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for it … I’m not saying I didn’t have many twists and turns along the way … but they were the reason I was able to go for it.
A belief in me that is probably more than the belief I have in me.
Never blind and blinkered … but also never dismissive or undermining.
What a gift.
What a Dad.
Happy birthday. I love you and miss you so much.
A kiss to you and Mum.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Brand Suicide, Colenso, Colleagues, Context, Culture, Dad, Distinction, Dysgraphia, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Equality, Fatherhood, Football, Jill, Leadership, London, Loyalty, Management, Marketing, My Fatherhood, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Parents, Perspective, Police, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
I hope I’m a decent leader.
While I know there will be some people I’ve worked with, who definitely won’t hold that view … I hope the majority do.
Because – believe it or not – I try hard to be.
Sure, I make some mistakes.
And I can definitely be a pain in the ass.
But I am committed and invested in being the best boss I can be.
I consider myself fortunate because over the years, I’ve had incredible ‘teachers’.
From my parents to mentors to some old bosses … and of course, a few who were so shite, they taught me what not to do, haha.
And while there are many things I believe, adopt and hold dear, one of the most important is: always back your team in public and resolve disputes in private.
It sounds obvious … and it is … but it’s not always followed.
I’ve heard some shocking examples on Corporate Gaslighting … stuff that doesn’t just sound vicious, but the act of megalomaniacs.
But in terms of backing the team, there were few better than football manager legends, Brian Clough and Sir Alex Ferguson.
Yes, I accept they may have had some usual ways of doing this – and demonstrating this – but players knew that unless something exceptionally terrible had happened, their managers would always back them should they face public or managerial scrutiny.
Of course, there was a cost for this …
A cost that was simple but exhaustive.
And it was that the gift of being backed was reciprocated with dedication, focus and effort.
And that – to me – is key.
It’s OK to make mistakes.
It’s alright to sometimes mess things up.
But it can’t be because you were lazy or distracted.
I’ve said it many times, but I believe my job is to ensure that when someone in my team leaves, as they all will at some point, they go because they have a better job than they ever could have imagined.
Chosen for who they are, not just what they do.
Known for what they’ve created, not how well they’re known.
Chased for what they’ve changed, not what they maintained.
OK, there are some exceptions to that – mainly personal reasons, like love or a chance to chase something they’ve always wanted – but I believe I have a responsibility to them to help develop their natural talent, find and release their distinct strategic voice and move things out the way so they can create the most interesting shit of their lives.
It’s why my absolute worst scenario is someone leaving for a sideways move.
Oh my god, I would honestly feel I’d failed them.
And that’s why I place so much importance in backing them and showing my belief in them.
That doesn’t mean it’s blind faith.
We have very honest conversations a lot.
From gentle chats to bi-annual check-in/reviews … but they’re in private and focused on being through the lens of me wanting them to win.
Whether I achieve this is something only they can say. I hope most would agree with it [even those when we’ve parted ways] but if not, then I can assure them I’m working harder to be better.
The reason I say all this is because I saw something recently that I thought was a perfect example of backing the team.
It’s from the British Police.
Now they are getting a lot of stick at the moment. A lot totally deserved.
But this time it’s not them trying to justify an indefensible act … it’s something that resonated with me, because of Otis’ dysgraphia.
It was this.
The British Police – or maybe it’s all Police these days – have a bad reputation.
It’s manifested in mistrust and a lack of people wanting to sign up.
And while I fully appreciate they have a tough job and want to get better [as we saw with West Midland’s Police hiring my mate, Kay, to be their ‘artist in residence’ to better understand and connect to youth culture] … it’s acts like this that are more likely to help the public see the human side of the force as well as the compassionate side.
Anyone who runs a team knows it can be a painful job.
Some days it can feel more like being a cat-litter tray.
But when they know you’ll back them, they’ll back you with their talent, focus and commitment.
Well done Carlisle Police … we need more backing of people with neuro-diversity. Because the more we back those who are different, the more they will show the difference they can make.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Childhood, Confidence, Context, Creativity, Differentiation, Education, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Fatherhood, Food For Thought, Jill, Mediocrity, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Prejudice, Relevance, Resonance, Respect, School, Trust
A few weeks ago I wrote about Otis and his love of the Rubik’s cube.
His ability to solve them blindfolded.
How he’s found the cube community to be nurturing and inclusive.
Well recently Otis reminded me of kids endless capacity to be more than just curious … but committed.
You see over the past few weeks, two new things have entered his world.
Yoyo’s and Table Tennis.
I don’t just mean passing interest, I mean a full commitment to see what he can do with it.
Now I appreciate this is a bit easier for him than it was in my day … because he has YouTube to help educate and inspire him.
But my god, his focus and energy has taken my breath away.
In a matter of weeks, his abilities have gone crazy. I appreciate this is the sort of thing you would expect a Dad to say about their kid, but I promise I’m being as objective as I can be.
I’ll have to write about his Yo-Yo chops another day … but it’s unbelievable what he can do [though the innovation of the product is also mind-blowling] however it’s his love of table tennis that is a sight to see.
Part of this is because he’s not really into sports.
He does like tennis, but has no interest in things like football or – that school nemesis – cross country.
But what is great about loving sport that involves hand/eye co-ordination is that it develops his motor skills, which will be permanently affected because of his diagnosis of dysgraphia.
For a while, he’s been hitting a table tennis ball against a window at home with a bat.
So far so good.
But this weekend we took him to the NZ Table Tennis association so he could see what it is like on a full sized table.
And rather than be intimidated or nervous, he loved it.
More amazing, after a bit of getting used to the new dynamics and environment, he was pretty good at it.
Of course I’m talking about the basics of table tennis, but it is his ability to throw himself into things and desire to get better that is fantastic … not so he can beat others, but so he can see how good he could be at something.
I’ve written about this before, but there’s far too many adults who are focused on speed rather than substance.
A desire to take short-cuts to move up than to build a solid layer of ability and experience.
I don’t blame them for doing this – the system is against them – but it also means the people who will be in-charge of the next generations development will be people who may not fully appreciate what development really is. Or can be.
And that’s why I’m proud of Otis. He wants to do it right.
He gets massively frustrated when his ability doesn’t match his ambition … but he works at it till it surpasses it.
His focus and desire is a joy to witness.
His pride of achievement.
His fast-track of growth through the unrelenting focus and commitment of an 8 year old. An 8 year old with dysgraphia.
And while his neurological situation may mean he has to learn in ways that are different to normal approaches, that does not mean his abilities or potential are less.
Not in the slightest.
And that’s what I wish schools and governments understood.
That some kids learn – or have to learn – in personalised ways.
Sure, a lot of schools find that hard because of a lack of resource … but there’s still too many who see teaching about group standardisation than individual potential.
At a time where there is a lot of talk of kids being lazy or under the spell of social media [which is not necessarily true but convenient for older generations to use to mitigate blame] … maybe it’s worth remembering that by not creating and funding a system that recognises, appreciates and encourages individual needs, it’s not their fault they don’t want to follow a path that works against them, its ours.
Add to that the disappointment and disillusionment they see in the adults who blindly followed this ‘one-size-fits-all’ system and ideology, and I’d argue they’re smarter than us.
So while Otis is just doing what he loves, I hope one day he realises he’s a quiet revolutionary … one who shows his focus, dedication and desire to be better can break down barriers.
For him. And the millions of kids who have so much to offer and give, like him.
Filed under: Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Brand Suicide, Childhood, Comment, Corporate Evil, Crap Campaigns In History, Love, Marketing, Marketing Fail, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, School
Have a look at this …
What the absolute fuck?
I honestly thought it was a spoof when I first saw it.
But no … it’s deadly serious.
A visual of a kid who can’t be more than 3 … holding an adult-sized tennis racket … on a full-size tennis court … with a headline that suggests this is a company that can help your child become a professional athlete.
And if the idea of pushing a 3 year old to be a pro isn’t horrible enough, you then discover it’s a bloody private wealth company promoting that they can find tax benefits for sending your kid to a private school.
That’s right, your kid is a tax write-off.
The absolute fuckers.
OK, I admit I have a massive problem with private schools. Education … good education … should be free for all. Not because I’m some socialist fool [though I am a socialist fool] but because the smarter the country, the more prosperous the country.
Education is an investment in a nations future.
I hate schools can be massive profit centres. That some have more money than Councils, so can buy land for their elite kids, that could otherwise be turned into homes or parks or anything other than another elitist space.
OK, so there are some exceptions.
If your child has certain learning difficulties, I would understand it.
As I wrote a while back, too many schools are forced to teach as a one-size-fits-all, collective.
Where kids aren’t actually learning, they’re being taught to remember.
It’s why I’m so grateful to Otis’ school with his recent dysgraphia diagnosis.
Where they see his potential, not his problems.
Of course, if that wasn’t the case … then we would have to find a school that would help him on his terms, not their schedule.
And as much as I am vehemently opposed to private education, I’d have to do it.
But even then, it wouldn’t be about elitism, but equality. A chance for him to have a chance.
And while I get all parents want the best for their kids, a child is not a tax write-off and while Apollo Private Wealth are trying to position themselves as the ‘caring and considerate financial partner’, their motives are as transparent as a greenhouse.
So while this ad was not meant as a spoof … it did show this company is a joke.