Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, China, Chinese Culture, Comment, Crap Campaigns In History, Crap Marketing Ideas From History!, Creativity, Culture, Otis, Wieden+Kennedy
I’ve survived my first week.
Or I think I have … maybe they are just preparing to tell me to go back to China at the end of the day.
Talking of China [subtle eh] …
Just before I left Shanghai, I was asked if I would write an article about my 7 years in China.
Originally it was meant to be an overview of my experience and what I felt the industry could learn from it. As that sounded far too hard/pompous/wanky, I chose to ignore the brief and write something else.
Given I would always encourage someone who has the opportunity – and interest – to go to China, I thought it might be worth me posting on here, if only for the fact it saves me having to write something new which means I won’t give the impression to my new employer and colleagues that all I do is write blog posts and plan my holidays. Ahem.
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I’m a cliché.
I have succumbed to the classic ‘7 year itch’ … except instead of walking away from a wonderful wife and son, I’m walking away from a wonderful country and company.
Yep, I’m leaving China and Wieden+Kennedy.
So if they’re so wonderful, why am I leaving?
Well it’s not because I’m having a midlife crisis – where my head has been turned by something that is ultimately going to lead me to destruction – it’s for a whole host of painfully sensible reasons.
But that’s not what this article is about because Mumbrella asked me to write about my time in China … a kind-of ‘what I’ve learnt and what are the implications for the industry moving forward’ type-of-thing.
The trouble is, I know those things tend to ignite the same sense of dread as hearing a colleague ask, “do you want to hear about my dream?”, so I’ve decided to ignore the brief and write a love letter instead.
I’ve absolutely loved my 7 years in China.
In fact I’d go as far as to say it has been one of the best times of my life – both personally and professionally.
Sure, a big part of that is because of Wieden, my clients and the fact my awesome son was born here … but the whole experience has been nothing short of phenomenal.
Being able to see the huge shifts that have gone on first-hand feels like a total privilege.
I’m not just talking about the obvious stuff, but things like creativity, cultural diversity and technology.
Few things will ever make me as happy as being able to tell the West there’s areas where China is literally miles ahead of them … areas they were convinced they were dominant in.
China did that for me.
Of course there’s been challenges along the way … brands who prefer convenient answers over doing the right thing and a general attitude of good enough is good enough to name but two … but overall, it’s been an incredible and special time.
I’ve had a chance to do things I never thought I’d ever be able to do.
I’ve worked on projects with brands I will forever be proud to be a part of.
I’ve made friends with people who I will always want to be close to.
I’ve re-learnt almost everything I thought I knew.
And on top of all that, I’ve seen an industry start to realise what it is capable of being on it’s own terms, not others.
Not bad for a bald bloke from Nottingham.
Now, anyone who knows me is probably freaking out how positive this article is, so I’ll leave you with 7 things [one for each year I’ve been here] that I hope the industry will stop doing.
This is not because I want to my cultivate a grumpy-bastard image, but because as much as things have improved over the years, the industry is in a fragile state and if we don’t keep pushing forward we could start slipping backwards.
[Yes, I appreciate there’s more than 7, but hey, this is new, optimistic LA version of me. Ahem]
1. No more decks saying ‘China is big’. Everyone knows that. Even a myopic Trump supporter living in Boise, Idaho knows that. And while I’m at it, can Westerners stop throwing the word ‘Confucius’ on every 3rd slide.
2. The clichés of casting. Seriously, if an alien landed here and watched the ads, they’d never know this is a country with incredible diversity and nuance.
3. Please, please, please no more toilet paper ads acting like it’s a symbol of status and sophistication. It’s not. It’s something you clean your arse with.
4. You might not believe it, but there’s more ways to connect to culture than HTML5. Honestly.
5. To the planners who act like they’re academic intellectuals … stop! You’re not fooling anyone and you’re undermining a discipline that needs to be recognised for uncovering exciting creative opportunities, not spouting shit read from a business magazine.
6. Stop with the scam. It’s embarrassing and it is killing the industry for all of us. We all know who does it and I don’t give a shit if they’ve paid for a small store in Wuhan to run their ‘idea’, it’s still bullshit.
7. I know they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but it isn’t. It’s lazy and sells the industry short – not just financially, but creatively. There’s a bunch of incredibly talented people here who given the space and time, will reward us with something new and great.
That’s it. Not that hard really…
So with that I say thank you China.
I leave a better person than I came and I’m going to bloody miss you.
I have good news and bad news.
The good is this post does not signal the full return of this blog.
The bad is I have still written a post.
Before I begin, to everyone who entered the APSOTW … we’re close to having consolidated feedback and it will [hopefully] be posted in a couple of weeks. Huge apologies for the delay, but with the move – and the usual ‘herding sheep’ – it’s taken longer than I would have liked.
As for the move. Well, after an incredibly emotional goodbye we – Jill, Otis, Rosie the cat and myself – got to America unscathed.
I have to say it was weird having Rosie on board with us – hearing her meow – but given how quickly she acclimatised to her new surroundings, it obviously was a much better experience for her than the other times she has flown in the cargo.
We have been here just under a week and while it’s been rather hectic – organising social security numbers and driving tests and looking for places to live, not to mention enduring some rather extreme jetlag – it has been pretty special.
Not just because we got to spend time together exploring our new surroundings, but because we had family visiting America so we got to hang out with them too.
But more than that, everyone has been super nice to us. Everyone.
Strangers, government officials, [soon-to-be-new] colleagues … people have gone out of their way to make us feel welcomed.
Even the immigration officer was nice when we entered the country and that literally has never happened to me before.
There is a little park near us where we have taken Otis on a number of occasions. Every single time, a different family have come up to us and said hello and offered to help with anything we need. Even if they’re just saying it – and I don’t think they are as they gave us their phone numbers – I’ve got to be honest, it’s pretty lovely.
And don’t get me started on how amazing the community-run, hippy, mandarin-speaking, creative-focused pre-school is …
Of course it’s early days so I know I’ll find stuff that drives me fucking insane [like the whole tipping protocol] but when I see the smile on Otis’ face as he runs along the beach, I know that as much as I love – and miss – China, this was the right thing to do for my little family.
So of course, now I am in a new country, I need a new blog header and as you can see from above, Jill has worked her magic again.
Or should I say, worked her imagination.
Though after 6 days in LA, I must admit I have grown to have a bit more respect for Mr Hulk Hogan, because how anyone can have a body like that when every place serves food in quantities that would be too much for an elephant, is anyone’s guess.
I miss you China but I like you LA.
Filed under: Childhood, Comment, Dad, Death, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents
Oh Dad, how can it be 18 years.
How is that possible?
I remember that phonecall like it was yesterday.
You had been in hospital since Christmas having taken a turn for the worse.
And then on the 27th December, Mum called to say it was very bad and the Doctors had told her that I should come back right away.
In a weird way, this did not worry me.
We had gone through the same situation twice in the last 3 months and both times, you had pulled through.
But then I realised Mum’s voice sounded a bit different … more scared … and that’s when I started to get worried.
As you know, after a rather traumatic flight from Sydney, I got to Nottingham and was by your side at the QMC.
You were very poorly, but you knew I was there and it seemed to help.
But the strange thing is I can’t really remember what happened between arriving by your side and the Doctor asking me if I wanted him to remove the suffering you were going through.
I know Mum and I spent every day – from the moment visiting hours started to when they ended – next to you.
I know I told you how much I loved you. How I tried to will you back to health.
But the actual conversations and considerations are a total blank.
I’d like to say it’s because 18 years is a long time, but it’s actually because my brain refused to let me deal with the realities of your situation until that conversation with the Doctor.
4 years of delusion and denial pricked by a single conversation with the Doctor.
4 years of ignoring Mum as she quietly and tenderly tried to prepare me for the inevitable.
I certainly hope I was better when Mum passed away.
Of course, it was less expected than your situation and yet, deep down, I feared it may happen – as, it seems, did Mum – which is why I was much more aware of what was happening or what may happen.
So I need to thank you yet again, for helping me learn.
For trying to ensure I didn’t face more pain than I absolutely needed to.
Oh Dad, I wish you were here.
I wish I could hear the questions you would have for me.
I wish I could look into your bright blue eyes as you heard what I’d been up to over the last 18 years.
The decisions I’ve made …
The situations I’ve encountered …
The life I have somehow managed to live …
I would give anything to hear the pride – mixed with incredulity – you’d express about the career I’ve managed to forge.
The places it’s let me live. The people it’s let me meet. The experiences it’s let me enjoy.
The family it has let me have.
The daughter-in-law you would absolutely adore.
And the grandson you would be totally obsessed with.
But you’re not here … not physically, anyway … but in a weird way, Mum passing has made me feel closer to you.
Not that you were ever far away, but 18 years meant I had got used to the memory of you rather than the presence of you.
However now Mum has joined you, I kind of feel you’re both near me again.
I know that’s mad and I can see you shaking your head at me … but it’s true.
Don’t worry, I’ve not become a religious fool – but the fact you’re together has helped me a lot because I never was happy that you were both apart from each other.
But now, my mind, you’re back together, as you should be.
As you always were throughout my childhood.
And I cannot tell you how special that was to me.
Even more so now.
So while today is a day of sadness, it is also a day of joy … because you will be happy to know I am no longer lost in the pain of your final few years and can now focus on the wonderful life you had and we shared, exemplified when I had the honour of discovering the card you wrote to Mum when I was born.
I never doubted how much you loved me, but finding this was the verbal equivalent of one of your warm, wonderful hugs.
Sure I cried my eyes out, but oh what a feeling that was.
I so hope Otis feels the same way when he finally stops trying to wriggle out of my arms everytime I give him a cuddle. Ha.
So now it is time to go and I want to leave you by saying that while it has been 18 years, the love I have for you has never faded – if anything, quite the opposite – and even though I wish with all my heart that you were still here to be involved in the daily rituals of my life, the fact you’re with Mum makes the sadness a bit more manageable.
Still miss you though.
Love you Dad.
Rx
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Daddyhood, Family, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents
So today will be the last post for a while.
Surprisingly, it is not because I’m going on holiday, it is because my beloved Otis needs a little operation and we’re going to have it done in Australia.
Just to be clear, it is a little operation but it still scares me to death.
Part of that is because I don’t want any child of 23 months to require a general anaesthetic.
Part of that is because I don’t want to see the worry and concern in my wonderful wife’s eyes.
Part of that is because the last time I was in a hospital, my beloved Mum died.
Part of that is because we just love him so so much.
And while I appreciate that compared to many, our situation is not very dramatic … it is a very concerning time for us right now, so wish us luck.
If things all go well [and they will, they will] then this blog will be back on December 5th but until then, I’d like to leave you with one of my favourite videos of my brilliant son.
I love it for so many reasons.
His enthusiasm.
His unadulterated joy.
His participation … both in [Chinese] words and actions.
The way he quickly adapts to the dance when he makes a mistake at around 55 seconds.
And then, at 1 minute 2 seconds, when he morphs into a dance that Bez from The Happy Mondays would be proud of before hearing the music start again [1 minute 12 seconds] and bopping his head to the beat.
Otis, you’re perfect to your Mummy and Daddy … never forget that.
Filed under: Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Comment, Daddyhood, Jill, Mum, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
So this is the last week of posts for 2017 so prepare for a bunch of sentimental claptrap as the week continues. Sorry, I mean ‘even more’ sentimental claptrap.But today I am talking about something else.
Something that continues to be one of the best and most amazing parts of my life.
I’m talking about my son Otis, who today hits his 3rd birthday today.
THREE.
How is that possible?
And yet it is and I’m both thrilled and petrified about it.
Thrilled because he is the most wonderful little boy I could ever hope to know and petrified because – as the cliche goes – he is growing up so, so, so fast.
I can remember everything about the day he decided to come out and say hello.
From the moment Jill woke up at 2am feeling ‘funny’ to seeing his face at 6:27pm.
Up until his birth, he was about 7 days past the due date and a part of me that was very happy about that fact.Not because I didn’t want to meet him, but if he was born on the 12th December, our medical insurance would have clicked over for another year and all the costs associated with his delivery would be covered.
Of course he came out 5 hours 33 minutes too early for that to happen … proving that even before he was a minute old, he had the same annoying, cheeky-bastard traits of his father.
And yet, despite having just cost his Mum and Dad thousands of dollars by being born on the 11th, he has only filled our lives with happiness, excitement, joy and love.
And I mean filled.
To the point of overflowing.
This little boy is a delight.
He’s funny, kind, compassionate, curious, mischievous and loving.
He is everything I could ever have hoped to have in a child and a ton more besides.
I am incredibly proud to be his Father and hope he will feel the same way for all his life.
So with that, I want to say something to him that he can look back on whenever he faces trials and tribulations in his life.
My Dearest Otis.
You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and your Mum.
You make everything worth while.
The late nights, the early mornings, the decisions we made focused around your needs.
Everything.
So much has happened in the last 12 months and yet you have taken it all in your stride.
Your Mum and Dad are under no illusion how challenging this must have felt and yet you remained happy and open to all that is around you and we are in awe of the way you have coped with it all.
We will continue to do all we can to equip you with the skills and knowledge to handle whatever life throws at you and all we ask in return is you stay as cheeky, curious and happy as you are. Be safe knowing there are lots of people around the world looking out for you and we will always support you in the things that excite you and move you and will love you, regardless of what trouble you cause us ahead.
But don’t push it too far …
Happy birthday my dearest little boy.
Oh what a treasure you are.
Mummy and Daddy [and Rosie]
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox