The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]


The Lost Art Of The Written Word …

One of the most important skills of a strategist is the ability to communicate.

Not just in terms of the spoken word.

Or presenting to others.

But writing.

Actual words.

That should be obvious, but for all the ‘guru courses’ out there, none – as far as I have seen – have focused on the importance of writing.

Thinking.

Framing.

Explaining.

Yes.

Writing?

No.

And yet writing is the most powerful way to help others not just understand your thinking/framing/explaining … but feel it.

A way for them to understand how issues affect people.

The concerns. The tensions. The reasons behind the actions they take.

Wieden+Kennedy always valued the art of writing because Dan was a writer. It was a measure of your ability as a strategist. The skill of writing just enough, never too much. Truth without any hyperbole. Tensions not obstacles. A story not a set of points. A point of view not a range of general observations.

Some were exceptional at this. People like Weigel, Bloodworth and Lindblade to name but three … but everyone knew that while so much of the creative process came from conversations, the written word set the foundations.

Which is why – despite this not having anything to do with advertising, planning or brief writing – I am still in awe of the power of this piece of writing from The Economist that, in just 6 sentences, ignited the process that resulted in the destruction of a Prime Minister’s reign.

It is also the best ad for The Economist in years.

It’s why one of the best ways a planner can develop is read.

Not simply to expand your knowledge, but to discover how to help others expand theirs.

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How To Say Goodbye …

I want to talk about redundancy.

Before I start, I’d like to inform my team that – even though I know they don’t read my rubbish – I’m not writing this for reasons they should fear. The reason for this post is because I recently heard of a terrible example of how a company handled it and it compelled me to write this post.

Let’s face it, redundancy is shit.

No one wants it and no one wants to have to do it.

But sometimes it has to happen and what bothers me is how so many companies approach doing it.

A big part of the issue is driven by the ‘legal’ mandates companies choose to adopt.

Please note I said ‘choose to’ rather than ‘have to’ … because their starting point is to minimise risk to the company during the process.

It’s why so many people often feel a change in how they’re being treated a few weeks before they find anything out. It’s also why, during the process, they feel they are being kept at arms length, regardless how long they’ve been there. And it’s definitely why they are faced with cold, ambiguous and functional interaction with the people who just a day before, we colleagues – and sometimes – friends.

And while that is all shit, I kind-of get it because it’s never nice to have to let someone go … but here’s the thing, it’s not about you, it’s about them.

Their feelings.

Their situation.

Their impact.

And that is why there’s almost nothing as offensive as the whole ‘it’s not personal, it’s business’ schtick so many organisations insist on rolling out.

Of course the reality is they’re not so stupid to really think that … it’s just another way to remove their complicity from the situation. Which is why so many then practice the subtle art of ‘blamethrowing’, so the person being let go feels they are in some way to blame for this situation, so they stay quiet because of the shame they have been made to feel … allowing the company to then put out some PR bullshit sayking, “while we have sadly had to make the tough decision to let some people go, we’re in amazing shape to keep doing the brilliant work we always do”.

Blah, blah fucking blah.

This is why, when I was made redundant, I made a big deal about being let go.

Not in a nasty way – I was generally treated OK by R/GA – but in ‘loud and proud’ way.

There were 2 main reasons for this.

The first, as I said at the time, was to acknowledge I was genuinely glad it was an old white guy being let go rather than someone young, female or a person of colour … who are often the ones who suffer the most.

The second was I wanted to own my own narrative about the situation – rather than have someone try and own it for me. There were a couple of reasons for this.

Part of this was because I saw it as an opportunity to let as many people as possible know about my situation because – the way I saw it – it was a great platform to tell as many potential employers/clients, that I was available.

The other part was because I saw by doing this, I could also help remove the stigma of redundancy many that companies have manufactured for their own gain for many years.

All of this came together because of a phone call I received a few days before I was given my news.

A very well respected industry person had reached out to me to ask if there were any options of work at R/GA. They told me they had recently been made redundant from their company and wanted to get a job without the industry knowing their situation.

When I asked why, they said they believed if people knew they’d been ‘let go’ their reputation would be forever sullied because people equate redundancy with failure.

That broke my heart.

It also made me angry. Not at them, but at the context they had been led to believe was real.

Here was a brilliant person with an exceptional career and reputation who thought their redundancy was all about their failings rather than the company they worked for.

Sure, sometimes companies are caught unawares.

Sure, market conditions change.

But while there are occasions where a company is relatively blameless for the situation they find themselves in, it’s definitely more them than the people they bestow the blame upon as part of their redundancy.

All that lit a fire in me and so in typical ‘Rob Is A Prick’ fashion, I decided to announce my news of redundancy with a real sense of pride … which hilariously led to it being picked up by Campaign and even The Guardian.

And while this directly led to job offers, project offers and client offers – which was amazing and why I write this living in NZ – the thing I was happiest about was how many people reached out to say that it had helped them feel a bit less shit about the situation they were in, or were scared they’d soon be in.

But despite this, a quick glance on Corporate Gaslighting shows that companies continue to act like assholes.

And what is so annoying is how easily they could change this.

Beyond the legal requirements … beyond the awkwardness … beyond the context of the situation … all you have to do is respect the person you are about to hurt.

And you will hurt them.

Understanding that is important.

However, respect ensures you help them get through it much better and faster … and why the hell wouldn’t you want to do that to someone who was a colleague.

So turn up … not just physically, but emotionally.

Talk like a human … not a legally oppressed robot.

Be honest and open … not secretive, ambiguous or gas-lighty.

Offer clarity … don’t leave people wondering and self-hating.

Consider their context … rather than just what suits you.

Commit to their wellbeing … rather than just wanting them out the building.

And most of all, make it about them … rather than trying to make it about you.

As I said, it won’t stop it hurting, but it won’t add even more damage to the damage you are already inflicting. And who the fuck wouldn’t want to do that for another human – especially people in companies who claim their people are their everything?

OK, so quite a few … which is why the more people feel confident in owning their redundancy with pride, the more companies will lose their power to silence the people they’re making redundant. And that’s why this is still my favourite redundancy revenge, excluding the blackmailing scene in the movie American Beauty.

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Why We Need To Remember You Can Be Relevant As Hell And Still Be Boring As Fuck …

In April, I have been asked to speak at a conference in Croatia.

Croatia! What a country … I cannot bloody wait.

I know … I know … I can hear you all from here, screaming ‘another holiday freebie’. And while I accept this is a terrible misjudgement on their part, does the fact I have to take 3 planes over 24 hours to get there from NZ make you feel any differently?

No … didn’t think so. Doesn’t for me to be honest.

Now this conference is apparently a big deal with some very big names appearing so when they asked what I would be talking about, I thought it best to honour the occasion while representing my abilities, which is why I told them this:

There are many ways I could describe this talk. I could say it’s an investigation into why so many brands fail to connect to audiences despite having more data, research and marketing investment than at any point in history. Or I could take a more controversial path with ‘What if the tools and processes of modern marketing are wrong?’ And while both of those questions will feature within this talk, the real narrative is if you want to be culturally, commercially and creatively powerful … please stop being so bloody boring.

And to double down on that premise, here is slide 2 from the upcoming preso …

While I fully appreciate this seems like I’m not taking things seriously, I am.

Very seriously.

Because the industry seems to only have 2 settings: serious or stupid.

Or said another way, purpose filled or sponsored comedy.

And while they can both work in the right context – and with real talent creating it – it’s all got so expected that it wins by relentless repetition, rather that intrigue and interest.

At least with agencies like Mischief – who I adore – they are painfully aware of who they are, what they do and how they do it.

They’re less ad agency of brand communications, and more meme agency of the internet. And they do it so, so well.

But even they run the risk of their approach ending up being expected. A bit like brands who ‘hijack culture’ … which has now got so common, you have to ask if it is hijacking anything.

Thank god in Mischief’s case they have the brilliant and irrepressible Greg Hahn at their helm – someone who not only is phenomenally creative, but also can read and play with the pulse of culture – so just when things get expected, he takes people somewhere new and interesting.

Or said another way, he kills boring before boring takes hold.

But the reality is what Mischief do is not new.

There are many brands – even industries – who have been doing this sort of thing for decades.

Fashion. Gaming. Hell, even certain TV shows have been doing it.

[Albeit, to different degrees]

And they do it in ways that builds their brands role and position in culture more than just gaining a moment of space for it to be seen and discussed in culture. [That sounds like a diss, it’s not meant to … it’s just my bad writing because Mischief already have achieved more than companies who have been around a century]

The real issue is that in our desperate need to be validated by business, we’ve forgotten what business we’re in.

Because to use creativity just for short-term sales goals robs creativity of it’s true commercial value and power for brands, products, tools and services.

To be intriguing … enticing … interesting and inviting.

Because as the title of this post, stolen from my beloved Martin Weigel so perfectly states …

“You can be relevant as hell and still be boring as fuck.”

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I Am A Nightmare …

To people who have worked with me in the past … what I am about to say may sound strange. But the older I get, the more I realise what a total bloody nightmare I must have been as an employee and colleague.

I know … I know … you’ve known this for years, but I genuinely didn’t.

Sure, I got I was opinionated, persistent and refused to accept someone’s opinion I disagreed with – even if they were senior or important – but my intentions were always for good.

Good for the work.
Good for the audience.
Good for the clients ambition.

That didn’t mean I always pulled it off – after all, I have a spectacular track record for disaster and stupidity in the quest for doing something brilliant – but it did mean I always gave my all, learnt from [most] of my mistakes and pushed myself to keep finding ways to be original.

And yet, despite that, I still couldn’t help being a cheeky bastard.

Or – in the words of Andy and countless other colleagues and clients – an annoying bastard.

Talks.
Articles.
Client presentations.

You name it, I would find a way to mess with it.

Never maliciously … but because I hate the industries pomposity.

I should point out that doesn’t mean I don’t take what I do seriously.

Nor does it mean I don’t respect the industry that I have worked in my entire career.

It’s simply that I don’t think I have to take myself so seriously in doing it.

Now at 52 you’d think I’d have got my shit together.

But I don’t. In fact, I was recently called by the management of Metallica, ‘resistant to maturity’.

I think they meant it as a compliment … I mean, they renewed my contract again. But while I do believe that there is some benefit to not taking everything so seriously – both attitudinally, creatively and enabling a team to feel free from judgement – I also now appreciate it can be fucking annoying as well.

Which is all my way of highlighting the 2 articles that helped me see what a pain in the ass I may be.

Yes … yes … I appreciate this should have been obvious ages ago.

After all, I once was quoted as saying ‘wank’ on the front page of Campaign … closely followed by me saying I was an ‘annoying’ prick’. And then Campaign got in the act by accusing me of having an affair with a reindeer. But despite that and – let’s be honest – a fuckton of other episodes, including getting drunk on cough sweets and then inadvertently insulting a client [Sorry Lee], I was still none the wiser.

First is this in Little Black Book … where they asked a few planners to comment on some research about people’s habits/trends in Australia.

When it came out, I read it and saw all the other planners being thoughtful and considerate, whereas I go in with 2 guns blazing, blatantly taking the piss out of the whole premise and approach of the research.

Nice one Rob.

In my defence, I did think the research was questionable … both in terms of approach and in findings … but I could definitely of handled my response with a greater level of professionalism, let alone maturity.

And yet it gets worse …

You see every year, BBDO global do some sort of questionnaire to strategists about the trends they think they’ll see coming in the upcoming year.

While Colenso is part of BBDO, we never think – or act – as if we are and, to be fair to BBDO, they never ask us to be and generally leave us alone.

This is all my way of trying to explain why I used a tone in my answers that sounds so piss-takey you’d imagine they’d want to have me buried in a dark whole, let alone my answers.

And yet they then went and ran it all over social channels.

All. Over.

Which means I admire their lack of judgement but question their standards.

Unless, of course, it was an attempt to get me sacked … which would totally make sense.

I So to anyone I’ve ever worked with – or for – I am sorry.

I know it’s too late.

I know I should have known.

I know I’m not going to change.

But – finally – I appreciate I am a fucking nightmare.

[I’ve never been so glad to have comments off. And I will be ignoring the impending emails, ha]

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Let Imagination Live …

Over my career, I’ve had a lot of ‘annual reviews’ and in all that time, there’s been a couple of topics that have made regular appearances in my bosses observations.

I am sure you can guess a lot of them, but one is that I approach every brief like a chance to change or impact everything.

Sometimes it was said in a positive tone.

Sometimes it was said in a less than positive tone.

And they were right.

They still are.

Because whenever we/I get a brief, my starting point is ‘what excites me about the brief’ … quickly followed by ‘how insanely big could we make the idea’ … quickly followed by me getting ridiculous excited about the potential, totally ignoring the fact that all they wanted was a shelf wobbler. Or something.

You think I’m joking don’t you? Well I am, but only just.

My strength/weakness is I always dream massive. Proper massive.

Sometimes it’s paid off – creating the first 4×4 on 2 wheels for Peugeot Mopeds in Vietnam.

Sometimes it’s been a total and unmitigated disaster – trying to get Porsche to bring rally car culture to China.

But pretty much all the time I’ve been able to look in the mirror and know I gave them what they needed, albeit in bigger, more provocative ways than they may have wanted … imagined … or expected.

And you know what, I’m good with that … which probably explains why the quote from the KLF – ‘Don’t give them what they want, give them what they’ll never forget’ – resonated with me so hard.

Anyway, the reason I say this is because waaaaaaaaay back in 1973, this ad appeared in the good, old Nottingham Evening Post.

It was an ad to design the Nottingham Forest Football Club badge.

If that sounds strange, wait till you hear the reason.

Originally, the Forest badge was the Nottingham Coat of Arms … it’s the emblem featured in the middle of the ad.

After discovering they could not copyright it, they decided they had to come up with a new badge and – for reasons no one has really got a good answer for – they decided to run a competition in the local paper, recruiting two lecturers in art and design as advisers.

Despite this being before the glory years of the Clough era, and a prize of just ÂŁ25, the response was massive.

There were 855 entries from as far away as Australia and Germany … with one man submitting 27 designs.

After a judging process, David Lewis was crowned the winner with this …

David was 29 at the time, working as a graphic designer and lecturer at Nottingham’s College of Art.

He was a football nut and fancied a shot at winning the cash, but there was one problem … one of the judges, a man called Wilf Payne, was the head of the department where he worked.

David said …

“I didn’t think that any design I entered could have been judged fairly if he knew it was mine, and I also didn’t want to embarrass the judges. I did want to enter, though, so I decided to use my mother’s maiden name to hide my real identity. My mother’s side of the family were Italian immigrants and her maiden name was Lago. So I submitted my design as Lago and it wasn’t until afterwards that the judges found out my real name.”

Thank god he did that, because otherwise he may not have won and football – not just Nottingham Forest – would have missed out on one of the most beautiful and distinctive football club logos of all time.

Simple, yet powerful.

Accessible, yet iconic.

Universal, yet truly Nottingham … thanks to the tree representing Sherwood Forest, the wavy lines reflecting the river Trent [where the City Ground stands next to] and the red/white colour formation to reflect the club colours.

Forest’s badge has remained unchanged ever since David’s design – except for the addition of 2 stars to celebrate Forest’s back-to-back European Cup triumphs in 1979 and 1980.

Hell, the club is known to fans as ‘the tricky tree’s’ thanks to the logo.

And a few years ago, an American magazine ran an article on the most memorable and liked sports logos across the world and Davi’d design was in the top 10.

THE. TOP. TEN.

The point is, David Lewis could have approached the competition ‘pitch brief’ as many approach real pitch briefs.

Giving them exactly what they ask for in ways they would expect or feel comfortable with … which in this case would be a badge that represents Nottingham Forest and takes design cues from the existing logo.

But David thought bigger than that.

He wanted to create a design for Nottingham Forest that would be known, respected and revered across all sports and across all countries. A badge that could play outside the lines of the game and into culture.

A designer badge. Literally and figuratively.

And he did it. Beautifully and brilliantly.

Which is why the next time you get a brief – whether for a pitch or an existing client – just remember this story, because the whole industry could do with being more David Lewis.

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