Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Complicity, Confidence, Corporate Evil, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Process, Systems
I recently saw this quote from Rick Rubin:
While he is referring to band dynamics, what he is really talking about are the conditions needed to create something special.
The reason I say this is there’s not enough talk about this.
What I see being continually pushed is a focus on processes, systems, models and tools – and while they are very important, they are far more about delivering consistency or amplification of something special rather than the actual creation of it.
Because that tends to come much earlier in the piece.
Something born from humans rather than systems.
Because the most powerful path to creating something special comes from working with people you trust.
Not necessarily like, but trust.
People with taste, ability and a willingness to hold each other to account to standards while also taking shared responsibility for helping achieve and deliver it.
It’s as true in organisations as it is in bands.
And yet many companies to ignore this because they don’t want to ask themselves the tough questions … face the hard truths … so they create an environment of co-dependency, where no one questions each other because they don’t want to be questioned themselves.
It’s a slow walk towards mediocrity … and yet that is often preferable because consistency is more valued than possibility.
That’s not entirely the leaderships fault, because that’s also what shareholders want, so we end up in this crazy situation where
‘good enough’ is preferable to trying to create something truly good.
On one level I get it.
Truly good is hard.
It can cost a fortune.
And after all that work, you still may not make it happen.
However, while there are no guarantees what you make will be truly special … the one thing I know is the more you create an environment where talented people are with others they trust, the more likely you are to create something even a ‘proprietary process’ never will.
And if we don’t aspire to that, what’s the point of doing anything?
I saw this post recently about the importance of having someone believe in you.
Ultimately, it’s about the impact that can have on what you do, how you do it and what you go and achieve.
Amazing eh?
But it’s important to know how it works.
Because it’s certainly not by having people pander to you. In fact, in my experience, it’s the opposite.
But it’s never expressed with distain or abuse… it’s always through questions designed to better understand what you want to do.
Or make you think about where you want to go.
Not because they disagree with you – they always remember this is about your choices, not theirs – it’s just because they wish to witness whatever they see in you, go as far as it can go.
I’ve been very fortunate to experience this.
Not just with my parents, but with different people over the years.
Lesley. Lee. Simon. Mark, Rupert. Charlie. Paula. To name but a few.
For me, that is what real mentorship is …
Wanting the best for you rather than telling you what to do.
But what I particularly liked about this clip is that it reminded me of Bazza – who, in his early teens – wrote to Kofi Annan, Bill Clinton, Steve Jobs and Nelson Mandela. [I think that’s who it was, I may have added/missed one. Baz?]
And over a period of years, he somehow got to meet every one of them.
Then asked them for a reference.
Which they gave him.
Not because he was a cheeky bastard, but because they saw something in him that they believed in.
A desire to do something good with whatever they thought was special about him.
And while ‘good’ is personal rather than – as many think – universal, the role of their encouragement is to increase the odds in your favour a little.
It’s a generous gift.
Of course, what happens next is up to you and luck.
But for all the ‘thought leadership’ being shoved down our throats, maybe the most valuable thing we can do is let someone know we believe in them.
In who they are so they can see, where they can go.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Awards, Birthday, Bonnie, Cannes, Cliches, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Jill, Otis, Paul, Paula, WARC
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.
Filed under: Augustine, Bassot, Birthday, Bonnie, Cannes, Jill, Love, Nottingham, Paul, Paula, Relationships, Tattoo
So today is the last post for about 3 weeks.
No, it’s not because I am still upset about the loss of my ring – I am, but I’ve found a way to move past it which I’ll write about when I’m back – it’s because I’m about to go on a mass of travel, including talking at Cannes with Paula.
But in addition to all that, I feel I’ve reached a point where I have nothing to write about.
If I think about it, that’s stupid … because I NEVER run out of things and right now – with things like Dream Bigger – I’ve got more good things to write about than I have in years.
Which means I really need a bit of a break … and while the next 3 weeks will be the opposite of that, a change is as good as a rest so expect me to come back fizzing with stuff to shout about.
Of which 86.32% will be my usual pants.
The rest may be pretty good.
Talking of pretty good, I should highlight all that’s going to happen while I’m away.
First – of course – is my birthday. My 55th fucking birthday, which is nothing to celebrate whatsoever, hence it’s pretty convenient that’s the day I fly out of NZ.
Secondly, it’s Jill’s birthday on the 15th … which, yet again, I am missing. I could say that is my gift to her, but I’m gutted to be missing her special day. She is a truly special human … and the longer we are together, the more I appreciate all she is and all she does. She deserves so much more, but I hope she knows I love her with all my heart, even if I somehow seem to always be away on her most special of days. And then – as the final birthday fuck-up – I get to miss my mate Paul’s birthday.
What is even more ridiculous is I’ll be in Nottingham 2 days before his big day and yet – in another demonstration of my terrible planning skills – I’ve managed to make sure I’ll be gone just as he celebrates his double 5 day.
Bloody hell, I’m missing so many important dates, I just hope I make it in time to be on stage with Paula.
[Not just because we have a speech to do, but because I’ve not seen her in the flesh since we spoke at Cannes way back in 2023!]
Given the last few weeks have seen people leaving [Martin, Augustine and Lizzie]. lost wedding rings [me], broken toes [Otis], COVID [also Otis] … I’m quite nervous about getting on the plane, so to ensure you don’t miss me too much – you can listen to me blather-on the OnStrategy podcast when Fergus came to New Zealand.
At the very least, it will help you sleep … and maybe, just maybe, you’ll wake up in time to see a brand, spanking new, exciting blog post from me.
But I wouldn’t bet on it.
And if you don’t like that, you can marvel at the latest ridiculous tattoo I’ve had done.
I say ‘ridiculous’, but every one of them is personal to me.
This one is for Bonnie, our pooch.
You see, when I was growing up, my favourite biscuit in the whole-wide-world was the Bourbon biscuit.
It was nothing fancy. In fact, it was probably a bit pauper – I think you could get a pack from Asda or Glens for 10 pence, albeit that 10 pence back then was probably like 10 quid now or something. Anyway, the Bourbon was 2 chocolate rectangular biscuits sandwiching a chocolate creme filling.
And it was fucking yum.
Or so I thought …
You see I had one recently and I have to admit, it tasted more cardboard than chocolate.
But regardless, when we learned our dog was chocolate brown in colour, I rallied the family around the idea of choosing a name inspire by my fave Bourbon biccie … which is my long way of explaining this.
I know. I know.
So with that, I’m off to offend the stylish South of France residents with my speech and tattoo. So until I see you in a few weeks, have fun with the peace and quiet.
Given it’s my birthday a week today, you’d think I’d be in a good mood – but I’m not.
Not because of the age I turn, but because of the part of me I’ve lost.
You see a few weeks ago, I was at work when I realized I had lost my wedding ring.
Obviously, this would be devastating to anyone, but to make matters worse, my ring also incorporated my Dad’s wedding ring – which was the only thing of his that I still had.
I have no idea how this happened or where this happened.
I checked everywhere, spoke to everyone and revisited everything.
I went through office bins.
I went through every inch of my car.
I walked the streets, talked to passers-by and visited every place I’d been to that day.
But nothing.
To say I am still devastated is a massive understatement … because I am also angry and upset at myself.
I feel I was irresponsible in some way, even though I don’t know how.
But what I do know is that it was not only one of the only pieces of jewelry I have – not to mention the most important piece of jewelry I own – it was one of the only tangible connections to who I am and where I’m from.
Part of the metal had been wrapped around my Dad’s fingers … which always let me feel he was with me, even though he obviously was not. And my wife’s heart had chosen the other part of the metal that was wrapped around my finger … which helped me feel she was with me, even when we were apart.
Losing it – for me – feels like an act of disrespect and disregard to some of the people who matter most to me and I feel a real pain deep in my chest when I think about it.
I have tried to relive the day a thousand times.
Where I was.
What I did.
Who I was with.
And what makes it worse is that I feel the memory I need is there, but just out of reach …
So I push myself as hard as I can in an attempt to bridge the final gap and finally get the information I need.
Except I can’t … so I punish myself again and more.
I feel so sad and so sorry.
Sad for the situation but even more … sorry to my wife and sorry to my dad.
Sorry that they gave me something that symbolized how important I was to them only for me to go and lose it.
Worse, lose it but not realise it immediately.
It feels like I have just taken them – and all I am to them, and them to me – for granted.
It’s a painful feeling.
It’s one that I don’t know I will ever get over.
Because it wasn’t made of precious metal, it was made from precious people.