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: 2023, Advertising, Agency Culture, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Cannes, China, Colenso, Colleagues, Comment, Context, Corona Virus, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fashion, Fatherhood, Holiday, Individuality, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Martin Weigel, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Paul, Paula, Peace, Prejudice, Relationships, Relevance, Resonance, Revenge, Review, School, Shanghai, Travel, Trust, Truth
So with all the focus on Otis’ 9th birthday, I only just realized this is going to be the last week of this blog for this year. Which means you get a month off and then – when I come back – I will be entering year number 18 of writing my rubbish.
EIGHTEEN YEARS.
An adult.
And will my posts reflect that maturity?
Errrrm, probably not.
In fact a while back, I got called ‘immune to maturity’ by Metallica’s management which they quickly followed up with, “… and I bet you think that’s a compliment.”
That’s why we’re still working together after 7 years … we understand each other so well, ha.
2023 has been an interesting year for me.
Definitely more highs than lows.
In many ways, it has been a standout year for me – both personally and professionally.
I feel almost embarrassed to say that. I totally appreciate how many people are suffering right now. I have friends in tough places and there’s those dealing with everything from mental health challenges through to terrifying conflicts … which just reinforced how privileged and lucky I am.
For the first time in my life, I started this year with a resolution, and it was to say ‘yes’ to everything I was asked to do.
I don’t know why I decided to do that – maybe it is because for all of NZ’s magic [of which there’s tons] it can sometimes feel a pretty isolated, inward-focused place – so to counter that, I decided 2023 was the year of yes and I got to do a lot of that.
Saying yes let me travel literally around the world for work … including some countries/cities I’d never been to in my life. [Not to mention, having the gift of visiting my childhood home again, even though I burst into tears when the lovely new owner opened the door, haha]
I got to speak at a bunch of ace conferences. from Cannes – with my mates Paula and Martin – the magnificent State Of Social in Perth right through to the WWD World Fashion Conference in China [with the incredible Phoebe Philo and, bizarrely, being interviewed by Fashion TV] with a whole bunch in-between.
I was a guest speaker at a bunch of institutions from Cambridge University, the Ecuadorian Advertising Federation right through to the House of Prada.
I got to be part of some incredible creative projects. From the huge: helping design the 72 Seasons world tour stage set for Metallica. The cheeky: offering the All Blacks rugby coach a free curry for a year if he brought home the World Cup, then taking away his naan bread because he didn’t. To the most awarded: watching the wonderful fools at Colenso pick up Gold gongs and Agency of the Year title’s all over the place.
Top that off with seeing 3 members of my team become parents for the first time [and another about 3 months into that magical journey] and to see the 3 newbies from overseas not only fit in with the gang like they were here for years, but make an even bigger difference than I hoped – and you can see why I feel it has been a hugely satisfying year for me professionally.
But it’s the personal side that made it truly memorable.
First of all, we’re all happy and healthy. Like properly happy and healthy.
Then, for the first time in 7 years, we had our first proper family holiday. And while It did not last long in terms of duration, the glow still is with me months later. Yes, I appreciate that sounds more sickly than being force fed 5047389 sticks of candyfloss, it’s true.
Jill started her new company, Tiny Riot … a jewellery company dedicated to say the words women feel, but don’t always want to say out loud. She also felt she had found her peeps … letting her feel she was part of a community she loves and thrives in. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me, especially as we know we’ll no doubt be moving to another country in the not too distant future, hahaha.
Just to be clear, that has not been decided yet, we just know it’s coming … especially as we’ve already lived in NZ longer than we have lived in the last 4 countries we have been in. But I digress …
Which leave Otis …
Brilliant, wonderful, fantastic Otis.
Well, he has flourished and blossomed this year.
From seeing his mates network evolve and develop … with their own codes, games and slang … through to watching him throw himself into new activities, like tennis and swimming, yoyo’s and messing about with Roblox, Reels and video games … to seeing him love his budgie, Sky [which he made me a t-shirt to wear on the Cannes stage to ensure I admitted I cared for it as much as Rosie, ha] and then of course, watching him deal with his dysgraphia diagnosis with positivity, openness and conviction.
Given I have seen adults literally burst into tears when they had to move desks at work – true story – seeing an 8, now 9 year old – embrace a challenge that will affect him for the rest of his life with understanding, openness and a desire to not let it define him or make excuses for him is honestly one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing.
[I also have to add Forest staying in the Premiership was a highlight, because while Jill and Otis may not like to hear it … that team are family to me, hahaha]
But of course, you can’t have good without bad and there’s been a couple of things that have shaken me deeply.
One in particular made me question everything I thought I knew and could rely on.
The impact it had on me was – and still is – huge. I would say it has been the most emotionally confronting situation I’ve experienced since my parents died. It has been that big.
What makes it even worse is that in reality, I may never really get over it as the impact affects me and my family for the rest of our lives.
And we’re the least affected in this situation.
It has taken me months to try and come to terms with what has happened … to try and accept things I thought I knew and could rely on, have failed.
If truth be told, I’m still working on it … because while I appreciate life can take unexpected turns, it’s why – and how others deal with it – that determines how you feel about it and in this case, they are the things that ended up being disastrously dealt with.
Which is why 2023 can never be seen as a spectacular year for us, merely a very good one.
And as I said, that is still a hugely positive outcome given so many are suffering in ways that make my pain seem insignificant.
Which is why I was so impacted by some graffiti that someone I vaguely know, told me about.
It’s this …
… they’re not wrong.
Which is why, while I know 2024 will face it’s challenges – especially with the US election and the likelihood America will lose its mind and vote for Trump [while acknowledging the Democrats have failed to find and develop a single worthy candidate in 4+ years] – I hope by this time next year, more people can say they had a more positive than challenging year because the World needs it. Because for all the hell that Covid subjected the planet too, the anxiety created by people [read: old, white men] who feel entitled to do and have whatever they want is arguably, even worse. And without wanting to sound like a hippie … some peace would be nice.
I know no one will have read this far, but then this is not for you … but I can assure you the last 3 posts of this week won’t be as indulgent, not for your sanity, but because I can’t be arsed to write so much rubbish again.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Business, Comment, Communication Strategy, Creativity, Culture, Customer Service, Effectiveness, Food, Loyalty, Management, Marketing, Membership, Relationships, Relevance, Resonance, Respect, Strategy, Trust
So Kevin Chesters recently posted some work from the far distant past.
It was work that I adored at the time and even now, I feel is one of the best pieces of communication ever made.
EVER. MADE.
But it’s not NIKE. Or Apple. Or anything approaching ‘cultural cool’ … it’s for a supermarket.
Oh, but wait … there’s more.
Because it’s not a brand ad – though it does a ton for the brand – it’s a retail ad.
But instead of starbursts and shelf wobblers … it’s a masterclass in craft and smarts. Where the majestic charm and wry humour not only treats the audience with intelligence, but communicates price in a way you see value both in the product and the company selling it.
Regardless of the item.
Regardless of the audience ‘segment’.
Regardless of whether it’s selling food or their loyalty scheme.
It’s incredible and what’s more … it’s from the early 2000’s.
I think.
But despite being almost 20 years old, it’s still one of the best examples of a brand that knows who they are, knows who their audience is and knows the relationship they would like to have with their audience.
More than that, they know the problem they’re solving.
Not just in a general sense … but in terms of the potential barrier for each item.
In a world of wish-standard Nike knockoffs, this is an example of advertising not just communicating, but undeniably contributing to the growth, value and reputation of the company it represents.
When it wants to be – and when it’s allowed to be – this industry can be outstanding.
While we can’t control the standards other parties may demand, we can control what ours are.
Of course, in these ‘procurement-led times’ you could say ‘you get what you pay for’.
And I get that.
But watching the value and standards of what we do fall down a drain doesn’t seem a particularly good business approach.
Which is why I find myself repeating what an old boss of mine used to say to me.
“What happens next is up to us”.
He’s never been more right.
Filed under: Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Communication Strategy, Context, Creativity, Culture, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Honesty, Insight, Loyalty, Management, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Perspective, Professionalism, Relevance, Research, Resonance, Respect, Trust, Truth
Back in 2021 – on April 1 no less, even though it was not a joke – I wrote how I had spoken to a hostage negotiator.
Among the many things he said to me, one that stood out most was this:
“If you have clients that think words – and how you say them – don’t matter, bring them to me. After all, my job is marketing too”.
Of course, the idea hostage negotiating is similar to marketing is absurd … but what I guess they were trying to say is that by understanding the needs, triggers and context of your ‘audience’, you increase the odds of being successful.
Please note the words ‘increasing the odds’.
I say that because the way our industry talks about ‘certainty’ is disturbing.
That doesn’t mean we’re a stupid risk.
Nor does it mean we can’t be more successful than anyone hoped.
But if you’re working with someone ‘guaranteeing’ the outcome, then they’re either downgrading the metrics and criteria for what they classify as success. Messing with the numbers to suit their own needs. Or just bullshiting.
And there’s a lot of bullshitting out there …
Because so much of what we do is only notionally focused on the needs of the audience.
The reality is the vast amount of attention is directed on the wants of our clients.
On one level, I get it. Our job is to help our clients be more successful than they dared imagine. But often we’re not given the chance to do that, because context and criteria has been set. Using data that is has been focused only on the point of purchase … as if there is absolutely no interest whatsoever in who they are, how they feel, the tensions they face and the situations they deal with.
Said another way … how they live, not just how they buy.
And that’s why the comment from the hostage negotiator was really what they thought marketing should be, rather what it often ends up being.
Which is why the real opportunity for us is to learn from them, not the other way around.
Because they’re proof the more you understand your audience – rather than just what you want your audience to do – the more you can make a difference, rather than just make a sale.
To prove that, I encourage you to watch this.
It’s long. But – as is the case with anything you emotionally engage with – it’s worth it.
Especially when you see how much it means to the negotiators. Let alone the hostages.
Which challenges you to think when was the last time you worked with someone who cared so much about who they served, rather than what they could sell them.
Who knows, it might just change your life or career. Or even save it.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Complicity, Confidence, Context, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Differentiation, Distinction, Effectiveness, Innovation, Insight, Linkedin, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Mediocrity, Planners, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, Planning, Relevance, Standards, Strategy, Trust, Wieden+Kennedy
There is a lot of talk about a new term in marketing, called ‘UBR’.
UBR stands for Universal Buying Reason and there’s a lot of people seemingly wetting their pants over it. In essence, UBR is when a brand owns a position within a category that arguably, anyone within that category could have had, but they were first or the most consistent or invested in making it their or were simply, the biggest spenders behind it.
If you’re thinking this is not exactly new, you’d be right … but many people seem to be more obsessed with being associated with new terminologies or methodologies than actually making stuff that pushes brands and business to new places.
That’s why UBR feels like the next terminology trope in a long line of terminology tropes …
Brand Assets.
Brand Eco-Systems.
Global Human Truths.
Overly simplicitic labels that promote conformity under the guise of effectiveness or efficiency.
[And yes, I know Dan Wieden used to talk about Global Human Truths … and as I told him, he was wrong. Because while all Mum’s may love their kids, a Mum in Wuhan shows it in very different ways than a Mum in Washington, and to ignore that nuance is to ignore truth for convenience and complicity. And as anyone worth their salt will tell you, often it’s the nuance that is the difference between doing things for people or about them]
Of course, like all trope trends, there’s some value in what is being said about UBR – after all, its hardly a new concept given countless brands and categories have used this approach for literally decades, from alcohol to jewellery.
But what some of the people pushing UBR are seemingly forgetting – or not understanding – is that even at the most functional level of category marketing, it requires depth and consideration to fully release its potential … and frankly the lack of discussion about that highlights the industries obsession with providing clients with easy answers/solutions rather than encouraging/pushing/provoking them to appreciate the rewards [and shareholder benefit, let alone expectation] of putting in the hard work to identify how they can consistently build their value, role and position.
What scares me most is that some of the people ‘fluffing UBR’ – but thankfully not all – are in jobs where they’re paid to help clients with their business … and yet they talk in incredibly generalistic and simplistic terms about something that has context and complexity.
Where the hell is their objectivity?
Where is the understanding?
Where is the nuance?
It all feels like a desperate play to be seen as an industry thought leader, where the goal is to highjack whatever seems to be getting industry traction and then aligning themselves to it.
What’s worse is we’ve seen how this approach works as more and more people value and aspire speed and status over substance and experience … and I don’t really care that makes me sound old, because it actually has nothing to do with age, and everything to do with valuing what our industry can do when we do it with craft, understanding and ambition.
What sums it all up [for me] is how one of the brands the UBR advocates bang on about is Tesco’s.
I get why, because on face value, Tesco’s is a supermarket like every other supermarket.
But …
All it takes is a quick look at Tesco’s history – from their foundation in 1919 through to the many acts and actions they’ve embraced and led over 100 years, from the ‘computers for schools’ program to challenging EU law to give their customers access to products at the same price as their European cousins and a million things in-between – and they’d see the ‘Every Little Helps’ position is not something ‘anyone’ could say, but something far more specific to them specifically … something they’ve continually reinforced and invested in through retail, customer and cultural innovation as opposed to just the repetition of a category trope.
It’s yet another example of people needing to know their history before they can claim they’re creators of it.
Or – said another way – why clients and the industry at large, need to get back to valuing those who have DONE and DO shit, rather than just talk it … regardless how popular or well-meaning they may be.
[OK, ‘talking shit’ is harsh, but it sounded good in that sentence, so forgive me]
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for pushing knowledge and possibilities, I’m just not for people putting lipstick on a dead sheep and calling it Ms World.
And don’t get me started on how many of these people are ultimately downplaying someone else’s creative excellence to make it all about them.
Wow, that’s like a rant from 2010. Felt good. Thanks industry trope for waking me up.