Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Content, Context, Corporate Evil, Corporate Gaslighting, Culture, Individuality, Management, Succession, Television
For all the claims TV is dead, we’ve been living through a golden age of it.
Nothing sums that up more than Succession.
What a total masterpiece.
Writing.
Casting.
Acting.
Craft.
All absolutely stellar.
I am genuinely sad it is all done.
I am also convinced Jesse Armstrong is a genuine storytelling genius.
Obviously lots of praise has been rightfully heaped on the show, but I think Peter Friedman – who played Frank in the show – sums it up best …
“There’s been a degree of excellence that one should be wistful about, because I don’t know how soon each of us will find it again.”
Now I’ve had time to relax from the intensity of the final ever episode … I’ve realised there are certain characteristics that connect Succession to the few shows of it’s stature – for example, something like The Wire.
Attention to detail.
The need for the viewer to pay close attention.
The ugly truth of everyday reality.
For all the ‘twists and turns’ the show took you on, nothing should really have been a surprise. It was all laid out in-front of you when you looked at the character of the characters.
The greed.
The arrogance.
The ambition.
The ego.
HBO went to great lengths to understand how this manifests in real life by working with people who are genuinely from these backgrounds.
For example, no one wears a coat because billionaires are always delivered right to the door of where they are going. And no one bends down when leaving a helicopter, because they have spent their life traveling in them that no one fears for their head being chopped off by the rotor blades.
Little things we may not notice but somehow conveys authenticity through actions and behaviours.
It’s why I found Roman’s breakdown towards the end of the series so powerful.
SPOILER ALERT FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT GOT TO THE END.
Watching him fall apart as he realises the person who enabled his arrogant … vulgar … depraved consequence free life is no longer there, was incredible. A car crash of character that you could not take your eyes off that somehow also ignited sympathy you never thought he deserved. And then the final moment … where you witness him recognising that he’s not just free from the bullshit that has fed his life and his vacuous meaning, but that he is finally a true equal with his siblings because of their shared ultimate failure.
It was inspiring.
The whole thing was depressingly inspiring.
And I’ll tell you why … because it was all based on an ugly reality we all know but choose to ignore, and that is the ‘needy crawlers’, win.
If a company has a choice between individuality and complicity, they will generally choose complicity.
Someone who will do their dealing.
Someone who will take the heat.
Someone who knows their place.
Someone who will be obedient.
Obedience is important …
It allows the abdication of guilt for all decisions.
It creates a layer between them and the anger of others.
It ensures they always have support for whatever they choose.
It removes the risk of being challenged, questioned or undermined by those close.
By choosing someone who has an insatiable need to be associated with power and influence, not only do you know they will sacrifice anything – and anyone – to be given access to it, but you can give them the highest of high-profile corporate positions, and be safe in the knowledge they’ll still be subservient to you.
It’s the ugliest of ugly truths.
The most vulgar of corporate realities.
And a perfect expression of what I saw when I lived in America.
People managing up, regardless of consequence or expectation.
People being paid vast amounts for their complicity rather than talent.
People creating fear to ensure they always stay in power and control.
Of course not everyone is like this.
And of course, this is not limited to just the US.
But what made Succession so powerful is that even though it was about billionaires, it reflected what most people have seen or experienced at some time. That regardless of wealth, standing, status or connections … there is always someone we answer to and those who are acquiescent to them will always be the ones they choose to progress.
Despite being a show filled with conniving, untrustworthy, unlikable, spoilt, greedy and entitled bastards … I’m going to miss Succession. Though what makes the loss more bearable is knowing that should I ever need another taste of it, all I have to do is turn to reality to witness the people and companies who trade values and morals for power and control.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, China, Colenso, Colleagues, Culture, New Zealand, Shanghai, Wieden+Kennedy
Ever since I became a head of department, I have bought cakes on birthdays.
While you may think this is a humble brag, it’s actually an admission of bastardness.
OK, hint of bastardises.
Because like the badges, pencils, stickers, packing tape and fake dog shit I’ve bought for people in the past, I see the act of giving a birthday cake as much about satisfying my evil as sharing my love.
In the past I did this by simply buying cakes from the same shop, every single time … knowing it wouldn’t take long before people got sick of the bloody thing.
And boy, did they let me know about it … especially my Wieden mob and their loathing of yet another Baker and Spice cake. Hahahaha.
However, since moving to NZ, I’ve found a shop that lets you customize the design, which helps explain why Briar – our sour cream and chive crisp chomping champion – got the cupcakes above.
Sure Otis is seeing his inheritance get whittled away by his dad’s colleagues birthday’s … but it makes me happy and don’t I deserve that on their special day?
Cue: Evil, manic laugh.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Bands, Bangkok Shakes, Childhood, Culture, Music, Nottingham, Paul, Queen, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
When I was a kid in Nottingham, there were 3 independent record shops I continually went to.
WayAhead, Rob’s Records and Selectadisc.
OK, part of this was because there were no major record shops in Nottingham at that time – Our Price, Virgin and HMV all arrived [and left] years later – so unless you were happy with the extremely limited range available in Boots, they were your only options.
Not that they were a ‘lesser’ experience to the big chains. Far from it.
In fact WayAhead became my Mecca because it was a pure rock and metal store. The only one in Nottingham … a place that loved the music rather than just sold it. A place – when I look back – that not only helped forge my identity as a teen, but gave me a space where I could feel safe and supported in it.
It’s also the location where I queued up all night just to ensure I could get Queen tickets for their Works Tour. So the memories are deep and strong.
Rob’s Records was a second hand store up a small alley called Hurts Yard.
WayAhead used to be a few doors down, but they moved to a much bigger location when [1] metal music became mass in the mid-80’s and [2] the shop couldn’t fit customers in because too many people were crammed around the Pinball table and Track and Field arcade game that was in the front of their store. [See photo above]
But I digress …
To be honest, Rob’s Records was a shambles.
Messy … cramped … records stacked tight in big boxes and plastic bins placed literally all over the place. But it had cheap records so I’d find myself in there searching for some rare Queen albums or singles… normally after having a fried chicken lunch from the place that was a cut-price KFC in name, cleanliness and taste.
And then there was Selectadisc.
Set over 2 floors, it was the music lovers, music shop.
A dimly lit, warm cocoon that incubated you from the world outside.
In fact, it was considered an institution by record/vinyl fans all over the world thanks to its continued support for new and up and coming bands.
That said I didn’t love it … it loved The Smiths for a start … but it did have a lot of variety. It also had a great noticeboard where people could put up ads … especially for musicians for bands. We found our first singer, Rob Reid, from an ad we put up there … someone who helped give me some of the best times of my teens and who I am still in touch with to this day.
All of these places were like a wonderland to me.
I may have entered from the street, but I found myself on a different planet.
I would spend hours there on a Saturday… listening, talking, looking, reading. Occasionally even buying.
And while Rob’s Records and Selectadisc didn’t offer me the same community as WayAhead … they mattered to me. A lot.
Sadly, only Rob’s Records remain … but what caused me to write this post is because I recently saw a photo of the upstairs of Selectadisc and it stopped me in my tracks.
Not because of the memories it ignited.
Nor because of the state of it.
But because of its size.
Specifically, how small it was.
I appreciate when you’re younger you overestimate size … but this wasn’t when I was a child, I was in my teens.
And even though it wasn’t my fave record shop, I still remember it like it was a Cathedral of Sound.
Maybe it was because it was bigger than both WayAhead and Rob’s Records.
Maybe it was because it was on 2 floors where the others were just on one.
Or maybe it was because it offered me an escape from normal life to a place that was filled with sound and people who shared a similar love to it as me.
There’s never been a place like those record shops for me.
The closest was Funan Mall in Singapore – a whole building dedicated to selling electronics and gadgets.
A place where I could happily spend hours just looking at the latest new tech that had come in from China … where Jill sent me to after I’d proposed so I could calm down from the intense emotions of the morning.
But even then … even with all that … those 3 record shops in Nottingham will be where a part of my soul resides.
A place that was educational, recreational, and experiential.
Society is worse off without these places.
Yes, I know culturally they have been replaced by a bunch of other places – from the barbers shop to the chicken shop – but records shop were more than a place to hang and talk, they were a place where you grew.
So even though this photo of Selectadisc highlights how small it actually was … it’s impact on who I was remains huge.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Audi, Authenticity, Brand, Communication Strategy, Corporate Evil, Culture, Honesty, Luxury, Management, Mediocrity, Metallica, Packaging, Premium, Resonance, Respect, Standards, Status, Strategy
A lot of luxury brands, invite a lot of mocking.
It might be what they make.
It might be the prices they charge.
It might be the way they look at the world.
But whatever your opinion, at least they commit.
Walk into a proper high-end luxury brand and you see high-end standards and experience.
Everywhere.
[The Netflix series ‘7 Day’s’ perfectly demonstrates this, as I wrote about here]
Innovation. Craft. Details. Service. Packaging. Training.
You might not like it.
You might not value it.
But you can’t say they’re not committed to it.
Now compare that to companies that like to position themselves as ‘premium’.
Sure, some live up to it … but my god, most don’t.
The only premium-ness is often only in their pricing and ego.
Big talking to the public, short-changing everywhere else around them.
Now I get you have to look after the pennies in business, but when you claim to be premium – it should mean you recognize the value of premium standards and service in those around you and with you. And if you don’t – or you don’t think the people you are dealing with offer that – then why the fuck are you dealing with them?
I’ve written about this before, but once-upon-a-time I was asked to work on a freelance project for a high-end German brand.
I submitted my estimate to which I was met with the following reply:
“Your fee is higher than other partners we use, please lower it”.
That was it. Not even an indication of the costs they were comparing me too.
Now while I value what I do, the costs weren’t excessive.
Infact they were a fraction of the cost of one of their lowest priced products.
But more than that, I’d agreed my fees with the CMO before I submitted them to procurement, so I thought., ‘fuck this’ and wrote the following response.
“Your products are higher priced than other brands I could choose, please lower it”.
I know … it was cheeky, but I just thought they were incredibly arrogant in their attitude, especially in the way they wanted to undermine my experience.
And guess what, almost immediately they replied with,
“We accept your rate and look forward to working with you” … which is the exact moment I saw through the hype.
Brands who value quality don’t benchmark costs against the lowest market rates.
I get it’s a negotiation tactic, but it also reveals their hypocrisy and insecurity.
It’s why my experience with Metallica was so shocking … despite the fact what they do and value all makes total sense but the way most business operates means it felt so bizarre.
Actually, Metallica are a great example of a brand that values who they are.
Everything they do is focused on respecting the quality of what they do.
For example, to make sure their vinyl is always of the highest quality – they bought the best vinyl printing press company in the world.
Same with their live shows …
To ensure their sound is of the highest quality, they had the highest-quality live speaker system in the world built.
Rather than approach investments in terms of ‘what can we get away with’, their attitude is to put highest quality first … which is why they buy stuff rather than lease it because not only does it ensure their creativity is given the highest possible quality [rather than the best they can get away with] it ensures they always have priority access to it. And when they don’t need to use it, they get people like me to work out how to make it pay for itself, which often ends up leasing it to other bands who don’t have the same needs/standards or values as them.
Metallica understand standards better than most brands.
But then they understand who they are better than most brands.
Which is why everything they do is focus up to the quality not down to the price.
That’s a proper premium brand … one who makes decisions that reflects who they are not who they are pretending to be.
Christ, I recently saw a rep from a coffee brand get into their gold Audi.
It stood out to me because it was a errrrrm, gold Audi.
And while some may look at it and say,
“If they drove a Prius, maybe their coffee prices were lower”
… not only are they unlikely to be people who buy their coffee, they are also unlikely to care about the difference of coffee.
That’s not a diss … I like Nescafe with Coffee Mate … but it also doesn’t mean that my taste is reflective of everyone else’s either.
Whether true or not, my impression of a brand giving their rep this choice of car was they had a different perspective on standards. Rather than give their reps the lowest priced car they could get away with, they found the most efficient car of the standards they live and operate in.
Of course many may slate or disagree with me for this view …
I also appreciate some may find their choice a reflection of their pretentiousness, which they find fucking annoying.
And in some way I agree with them.
However I feel a lot better about pretentious assholes when that’s who they actually are rather than those who do it to look like they’re premium when everything else highlights they’re anything but.
Commitment costs.
You might not want to pay it … you might not understand the reasoning for it … but at least you’re dealing with people who believe it rather than those who are exploiting you for it.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Cats, China, Culture, Emotion, EvilGenius, Family, Fatherhood, Happiness, Hong Kong, Jill, LaLaLand, London, Love, Loyalty, New Zealand, Nottingham, Otis, Parents, Relationships, Rosie, Shanghai, Singapore, Stubborness
So on Saturday, it will be our cat – Rosie’s – 16th birthday.
Sixteen. For a street cat from Singapore, that’s amazing.
What’s also amazing is that she’s still in pretty good nick.
Yes, you can tell she’s getting old.
She’s slower … less mobile and definitely sleeps more.
But by the same token she remains cranky, vocal and remains as demanding as ever.
And if another cat comes anywhere near our house, she goes full gangster mode … hissing, growling and acting like she’s ready to fight despite the fact she’s behind a glass door.
Like those TikTok videos that show men loving family dogs they didn’t originally want their family to have … I was in a similar situation.
I didn’t really want us to have a pet.
Not because I’m a bastard, but because Jill and I were living in Singapore and I didn’t know how long we’d be there and I just was worried about the hassle of bringing it with us.
But Jill had always had pets and I wanted her to be happy, so while she originally wanted a dog, we settled on getting a cat.
She threw herself into the search.
It wasn’t just about getting any cat, she had to feel a connection to it … so after visiting various pet shops with their over-priced, pure-bred snooty moggies, she came across a little street cat that had been found by a family and was wondering if anyone wanted to adopt.
Jill went to see it and it is here that street cat did the best move of their life.
As Jill lifted her up to her face, Rosie moved her head forward so their noses touched.
Despite the fact Rosie would not show such love and tenderness for about 6 years, that ensured the deal was done and we were now a cat family.
I still remember sitting in a cab outside the apartment as Jill went to pick her up.
I was a bit anxious and nervous and eventually the door opened and there she was, in her little cat bag, where we both wondered what the fuck we had in store for each other.
And while there have been some annoying, painful and scary moments … it’s been generally nothing but joy.
Put it simply, I bloody love that cat.
There’s things I’ve done for her that I wouldn’t do for anyone. Literally anyone.
What things? Well how about some of this …
In HK we paid someone to pat her so she didn’t feel lonely. I did a project for an airline on the condition they flew her in the crew quarters rather than the cargo hold. We built ‘penthouses’ for her to hang out in. I gave an entire presentation about what a client can learn from her and her ways. I even got my office painted with her – and some of my colleagues moggies. And that’s just the tip of the sad-cat-bastard iceberg.
That said, every year I worry this is the year … the one where we have to say goodbye.
And while I know that will happen eventually, she’s doing OK.
Yes she needs some blood pressure medication, but apart from that, she’s in pretty good nick.
That said, I remember when we were moving to NZ I was worried that would be it.
Despite having flown from Singapore to HK … HK to Shanghai … Shanghai to LA and LA to London … London to Auckland is a whole different beast.
But bizarrely it wasn’t just the distance that worried me, it was that there was a stopover in Singapore – and given she was originally from there, my nihilistic side told me it was written in the stars that if there was any place she would reach the end, it would be where she started, like some fucked-up circle of life. Which – to be fair to me – is kinda what happened when Otis was born and my wonderful Mum died a few months later. Which – given I knew she was ill – was something my nihilistic side had also started to feed into my head.
Except with Rosie, it thankfully didn’t happen. [Fuck you, nihilism brain]
Better yet, we knew it hadn’t happened at the time because we had paid for a service that ensured at every stage she was checked and photographed.
Hell, even when we ended up in MIQ in NZ – where we spent longer in quarantine than she did – we got bombarded with pics of her and she looked to be having the time of her life.
Jetlagged … but happy, thanks to brushes and treats that I had already got sent to the quarantine place before our arrival.
But if you think this proves how much she means to me, you’re only partially right.
You see, at her age – which is 80 in human years – my attitude is she’s earned the right to do whatever she wants to do.
Which is why I’ll get up at 3am if she decides she wants a treat at 3am.
Which is why I’ll give her my chair if she decides she wants to be under the aircon.
Which is why I’ll buy her an extortionately expensive outdoor beanbag because she loves sitting outside in summer.
If we were her servants before, we’re her slaves now and I’m OK with that.
NZ is good for her.
She has a lovely, comfortable peaceful life.
Lots of places to go hang out, a big deck to sit and watch the birds and loads of food and water. And treats.
And where in the past you always felt she was disappointed in you, now you feel her gratefulness.
A cuddle here. A lick there. Meows, headrubs and sleeping on your hip.
Hell, she’s even totally chill that Sky – Otis’ budgie – is in the house.
It’s a lovely feeling.
A family feeling.
And while we give her so much, she’s given us – and me – more.
Happy Birthday my dear Rosie. Keep proving the critics wrong and us on our toes.
