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


The Fine Line Between Inspiration And Vulgarity …

So, I’m back.

And I survived.

Better yet, the family … pooch … and my colleagues seemed relatively happy to see me, which is a massive win.

Plus the people with the birthdays, had good ones. Albeit maybe because I didn’t get to share it with them.

Anyway, Cannes was interesting.

I have a very weird relationship with it because while I love hearing great people talk … looking at some incredible work and seeing old friends, I do hate a lot of ‘the scene’.

The indulgence.
The egotism.
The excess.

That said, so much of that is now coming from people and companies who work in consultancies, tech, research or big multinationals – rather than ad agencies or companies who practice creativity in the truest sense of the word. Part of that is because they’re the only ones who can afford it … but it also reveals a chink in their ‘armor of confidence’. Evidence that for all their smarts, they’re desperate to feel admired, liked, wanted … without ever realizing their American Psycho approach to life attracts derision more than attraction.

At least for me.

I often wonder if all industry conference get-togethers create this sort of energy.

Do dentists/analysts/publishers [delete as appropriate] start to convince themselves they’re the Masters-Of-The-Universe when all packed tightly into one room?

As I said, Cannes is brilliant for the talks, the creativity and the ability to reconnect with old friends.

It’s nice to see a celebration of what we do when so often it faces a barrage of abuse from people who wouldn’t know creativity if it smashed them in the face.

But the vulgar displays of excess are less attractive to me.

As are the giant ads from tech/consultancy companies which are trying to position themselves as creative but end up demonstrating they’re the total opposite.

At least that’s slightly amusing, especially because you know it took them 6 months of board approval/design to make it happen.

But I digress …

I’m back.
I had a good time.
I’m thankful to WARC and Paula for making it happen.
I’m very happy to have seen some old friends after years.

But – unfortunately for you – I’m ready to write more blog bollocks.

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Let Them Know You Love Them While They’re There …

I watched something recently that made me happy, jealous and sad all at the same time.

I know … I know … they’re the sort of emotional extremes you’d normally associate with a psychopath – but hang in there.

I’ve written a lot about how much I loved my parents. How much I still do.

So many of the decisions and choices I’ve made in my life have been influenced by me wanting them to feel proud of me – even though they’re no longer here and I know very clearly that they were already.

But despite that, I still do stuff that is driven by a desire to thank them for being brilliant parents … to let them know that despite all the moments of ‘stupidity’ that I have embraced throughout my life, the lessons, encouragement and love they continually showed me, were never taken for granted.

Even more so because they never wanted anything from me.

Nor did they ever ask anything of me.

All they desired was that I choose a life of fulfillment over contentment.

It took me a long time to work out what that meant, but once I had worked it out – it fundamentally changed how I lived my life. Giving me clarity at times of confusion or complexity. Hell, it’s one of the main reasons I didn’t go back to the UK when I faced some truly challenging situations while living overseas … because even though I knew they’d love it if I’d gone back [and I’d have loved it too] – I felt I would be disrespecting the gift they’d given me by encouraging me go and explore the world when they were facing such personal hardship through Dad’s illness.

We talked a lot about this when Dad became ill.

I was due to go to Australia when Dad had his stroke. Suddenly I didn’t want to go … I wanted to stay with them and help, which was my new plan right until the moment I told my parents about it.

“NO!” they said.

This was not something they were willing to allow.

Of course they massively appreciated the consideration, but they wanted me to go and live my life rather than – as they saw it – be held back by their situation. Given how hard their situation was, it is fair to say that no one – least of all me – would have blamed them if they had asked me to stay, but they didn’t and I think part of that is because they knew that had I not gone then, I would never have left … and that was an outcome they were never going to allow.

That does not mean life wouldn’t have been good if I had stayed – I loved my parents and I loved Nottingham – but it is also fair to say the life I get to live and enjoy now is nothing like the one I would have experienced if I’d remained. As I’ve written many times before, everything I have in my life today, bar my relationship with my best friend Paul, is because I left the UK.

My family.
My career.
My lifestyle.
My experience.
My experiences.

Every single bit of it … which is why their actions are not only an incredible example of ‘unconditional love’, but also proof of how well my parents knew who I was and – with a bit of encouragement – who I could be.

What a gift.

What generosity.

Which may explain why I felt such a compulsion to repay their love. I don’t mean that just in terms of chasing a life of fulfillment, but in trying to help them make their life easier, happier and – dare I say it – more comfortable.

You see, whatever way you look at it, life wasn’t easy for them. In fact it never was.

Money was always very tight and now, with Dad’s health – and Mum caring for him 24/7 – it had now become even harder.

And while I did what I could, I was not earning the money that would allow me to do what I really wanted for them which was:

Pay off the house and buy Dad a yellow 1970’s, Rolls Royce with white-walled wheels.

In that order.

But hope and reality are separate beasts and even if I could have pulled it off, I know they would have lost their shit over it, because to them, they’d tell me I should be focusing on my future, not theirs.

Which leads me back to the beginning of this post and how I saw a clip that made me feel happy, jealous and sad all at the same time … because I got to watch a kid do this for his parents. Not the Rolls Royce bit, but the house.

I love it.

I love the reaction of the Father.

The slow realisation followed by the cavalcade of emotions …. pride, relief, gratitude and love.

I can only imagine how good the son felt to be able to do that for his folks.

And while my parents did – in the end – get to pay off the family home, it was not because of me but because of an insurance payout they received for a car accident they’d been involved in 5 years prior. And while I wish they hadn’t had to experience the accident to be able to pay off the home, I also know how happy it made my parents – especially my Dad, who knew he was nearing the end of life and so it reassured him Mum would be safe – but even then, I still wish I’d been able to do this for them.

Of course – as my career took off – I was able to repay/spoil/look after my Mum – but while I may still look at that clip with a mixture of emotions, I comfort myself knowing it has nothing really to do with buying your parents a home and everything to do with celebrating a loving, caring family and viewed through that lens … I know my parents knew how grateful I was for all they did and all they were.

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When Kids Become A Marketing Commodity …

After the recent emotional rollercoaster of posts – with the wonderful Fergus coming and the brilliant Martin going – let’s get back to some cynical musings, as the name of this blog supposedly ‘promises’. Or something …

So I was going for my daily walk when I passed a school in a posh part of Auckland.

By the gates, I saw this ad …

Now on one hand, I was quite impressed by the smarts of the real estate agents.

Putting an ad for a pricey home by the gates of the school pick-up zone is clever thinking.

As rich parents wait for their lucky kids, they have a captive audience to try and flog them another symbol of success.

But it’s also pretty appalling.

Not by the school – because even though it’s located in one of Auckland’s richest locations, its state run so likely needs the money like every other state school – but by the real estate agents.

Now I appreciate this may be a an ‘added benefit’ of them already donating money to the school. Plus, I acknowledge if they think the parents of the kids there can afford a piece of land – like the one on Waiheke Island – then maybe the school should be asking parents to contribute more to the education of their kids. But the fact Martin and Charles at Kellands Real Estate obviously negotiated this shows they don’t really care about the education of the kids, just the wallets of their parents.

I get this is how business operates these days.

I get it’s a very competitive market.

But just because you can, doesn’t always mean you should.

But this is how we operate … where everyone and everything is seen as a commodity waiting to be exploited by someone for personal gain.

No where demonstrates this as much as Linkedin with its endless unrequested ‘messages’ from strangers offering services that have nothing to do with what you do … but you kind-of expect that now, whereas this school ad caught me off guard.

Of course, the real people we should be aiming our anger at are the governments who continually under-invest in state education.

Conveniently forgetting that a smart nation is a strong nation … though some will claim that’s a very conscious reason why politicians do it.

Education and health are two of the most important things a nation can do for its people … that it’s become a pawn in the battle of politics is everything wrong with politics.

Which reminds me of the time someone said, “Democratic governments should be scared of its people. Ensuring they never forget who they represent and serve. When is the other way round, that’s when a nation has a problem”

While a real estate ad at a school in Auckland is something – in the big scheme of things – very small, in many ways it reveals, we have a problem.

Not an end-of-the World problem.

Not a call for revolution kind of a problem.

But a problem … because the focus is far more making a few people rich today, rather than helping an entire nation be better off tomorrow.

God, that’s waaaaaaaay too political for this blog. And on a Tuesday, no less.

I can assure you that tomorrow, things will be back to their bollocks best. Sorry.

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Pride Can Come Before A Fall, But It Can Also Make You Stick Things Out To Let The Impossible Happen So A Prick Doesn’t Win…

I have written before that apart from my friend Paul, I owe almost everything in my life to the fact I left the UK and went on an adventure.

Without that, I would not have met my wife … would not have had my son … would not have had my pets … would not be working with rock stars … would not have had all the life experiences and adventures I’ve been fortunate to enjoy and almost certainly would not have the career I currently enjoy.

That’s pretty huge when you think about it and while there’s a whole list of people I need to thank for making it all possible, one of them is an old boss.

Who was a prick.

I had a rather complex relationship with this individual.

Because while they were pompous, petty, condescending and rude, they were also smart, knowledgable and experienced.

On top of that, they gave me a shot on a couple of projects that they probably shouldn’t have. I should point out that wasn’t because they necessarily believed in me – it was more there was no one else to do it – but I appreciated it all the same.

Anyway, when I decided to leave – to go explore opportunities in another country – they were pretty pissed off with me.

While I’d love to say it was because they didn’t want me to go, the reality was they were frustrated I was leaving after they’d agreed to give me a payrise.

That this ‘rise’ was still below market rate and they’d fucked me around for literally 2 years, seemed to have completely slipped their mind … which is maybe why on the day I left, they thought it would be ‘funny’ to write the following comment in my leaving card.

“You’ll be back. Come crawling”.

I remember watching him going around telling people what he had written, laughing hilariously at his own ‘joke’ and while I didn’t take it too much to heart – because everyone knew he was a bit of a prick – it still hurt.

Little did I know then, how those 5 little words would play such an pivotal role in how my career would turn out.

You see, when I ended up in this other country, I initially found it very difficult.

Not just because I didn’t have friends, contacts or a job … but because my Dad was very ill back in the UK.

In all honesty, the temptation to go back was huge but there were 2 reasons I stuck it out.

1. I wanted to show my gratitude to my parents for supporting and encouraging me to go, despite them going through a terribly tough time because of my Dad’s major stroke.
2. Those 5 little words.

While I’d like to think the former was the biggest motivator, I fear it may have been the latter.

That’s pretty pathetic isn’t it … especially as I could have gone back without having to go back to that old job.

But I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction directly or indirectly.

And so I persevered.

Pushed, prodded, walked the streets, did shitty, temporary roles … anything that kept me from gaving to go back with my tail betweeen my legs.

And it everntually worked out.

Not because of any talent I did or did not have, but because of my perseverence.

And willingness to take any bullshit salary … hahaha.

But for me, getting a break was my main objective … because while I knew I was not the smartest strategst, I knew my work ethic meant I could out-work most.

Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that is a toxic trait – but it is my trait – and back then, it was a way for me to prove my worth to agencies/clients who didn’t have to give me a chance or keep me on board.

Of course, over the years, my motivation for continuing to explore the possibilities of the World and my career have evolved.

These days it is far more about wanting to feel I’d be making my parents proud than it is me reacting to 5 little words from a toxic, little manager.

But I also have to acknowledge that without that persons toxic motivation, it is unlikely I would be in the situtation I currently enjoy.

So thank you AC … you were a strange little man, but for all the fucked up shit you did – and there was plenty – you did one thing right, even if it was wrong.

And while I doubt you even remember me – let alone care what I’ve done – it doesn’t matter.

Because I didn’t come back and didn’t come crawling and so for that, I won, so there.

It’s Easter long-weekend that then leads into a big week for me/Colenso – from us hosting Fergus and his OnStrategy podcast to me saying goodbye [for the second time] to someone who is very special to me … so have a great weekend, overeat Chocolate and Hot Cross Buns and I’ll see you Tuesday.

Till then, this is for you AC.

With thanks.

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Noise Means Life …

I’m back.

But I barely survived.

Part of that is because my trip was full-on.

The other part is having a puppy is even more full-on.

Seriously, it’s like having a baby all over again. Fortunately, we loved that period of our life so it’s not too bad … but bloody hell, it’s also pretty demanding.

A few months ago, I wrote about how people in agencies should be taught ‘the art of conflict management‘ … but now I think the other skill we should all be taught is puppy training.

If that doesn’t teach you how to be patient and calm when facing a barrage of noise and needs, nothing will.

That, or go work in China, hahaha.

That said, it is lovely having a pet in the house again. As I wrote before, while Rosie was a small cat, she filled the house with her presence and personality – and while we still have had Otis’, Sky, over these months, it hasn’t been quite the same.

But now, with Bonnie, the house has a new energy in it.

Sure, it’s slightly manic and lacking any degree of peace … but that’s a small price to pay to have life bubbling again. No wonder my Mum loved it when I came home to visit her. Not just because she was very happy to see me, but because my friends would come around and suddenly the place was a bustle of noise and laughter … a rewind to what daily life was like when Dad and I were around.

I get it. I just wish I could tell her that I do.

What’s interesting is we didn’t meet our dog until we picked her up … so we were totally reliant on the breeder being smart with her recommendation. Not because we were being picky about its looks … but because in addition to being a family pet, she has to be a trained support dog for Otis, hence temperament is key.

Thanks to the training she’s received from the breeder – and us – so far, it’s been good, but like Rosie it will definitely take some time until we find our own unique rhythm.

Finding the rhythm is a magical thing.

Some of it comes from ritual. Some from the environment. But most of it comes from the interactions you have and keep having together.

But when you find it, it’s special because it evolves into a sort-of invisible bridge where you can come together in the middle … with the knowledge to understand the unsaid. To interpret different sounds and signs.

It’s why that quote at the top of the page made such an impact on me when I read it.

A reminder that one of the most powerful ways to know how much someone has impacted you, is to look for those traits in others. Not so they become who someone was, but because they show you the best you can be.

So welcome Bonnie. Thank you for what you’ve given us already.

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