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


Being Positive Means Nothing If You’re Denying The Truth …

Toxicity.

It’s a great word to describe a terrible thing.

It perfectly captures the strategy so many companies, people, governments have adopted to get ahead regardless of the cost.

But what a cost it is.

As the stories of Corporate Gaslighting highlight, it is destructive, debilitating and harmful and its rightfully being called out more and more.

However one of the byproducts of this rightful shift has been the increasing number of companies and agencies who will only accept ‘the positive’.

I’m not talking about them wanting to offer optimism in a challenging world, I mean they are actively dismissing or ignoring anything that they deem as bringing negativity into the conversation.

Questions about decisions.
Realities about their audiences.
Considerations about the categories.

No … no … no … no … no!!!

It’s the ultimate sign of privilege. Not to mention arrogance. An ability to simply close eyes and ears to the realities millions face every single day, just so they can continue living in their own Disneyland of the mind.

Actually Disneyland isn’t right, because their stories involve struggles and challenges … so we’re talking about organisations who make Disney look negative.

Jesus Christ!!!

And yet in the same breath, they will wax lyrical about wanting to have ‘deeper connections with their customers’ as well as ‘living their brand purpose’.

Of course it’s complete bollocks.

Deeper understanding equates to ‘how can we sell more stuff to them’.

And brand purpose is …. well, you know my view.

Can brand purpose have value?

Absolutely.

But brand purpose isn’t something you can ‘invent’ on a whim.

Nor is it a marketing tool to drive sales.

And it absolutely isn’t about saving the world.

It can be.

For some.

But it probably isn’t for most.

Which is why pharmaceutical companies saying stuff life, ‘We exist to rid the world of pain’ … makes me laugh so much I get a headache.

The reality is pain makes these companies oodles of money. The last thing they will ever want to do is rid the world of it.

And you know what … I’m cool with that.

Pain happens and they help it stop.

Cool.

But to say they want to get rid of it all?

Forever?

Are they forgetting how pain can actually be useful to people.

How it can help us understand our limits?

Can guide us to better decisions?

Without pain, can you imagine the trouble we would be in?

Which all explains why I – and shitloads of the planet – don’t believe a word they say when they, and countless other companies in countless other categories, go on about ‘their purpose’, especially when it’s obviously the total opposite of what funds their business?

And yet this delusional positivity of purpose is everywhere.

And what’s worse is we’re seeing more and more companies and agencies actively celebrate it, encourage it and demand it.

I cannot tell you how many planners I’ve spoken to about not being allowed to bring truth to their meetings and conversations.

I talked a lot about this – and the reasons behind it – in my rant at WARC, but it still blows my mind that companies and agencies expect planners to adopt this approach when it’s literally the opposite of what our jobs are about.

Planners are not blind cheerleaders.

We liberate through filter-free truth.

That means we’re supposed to question, challenge, have a hint of cynicism, push buttons.

Not to be dicks, but to help you be better.

It you want a planner to just accept whatever alternative reality you live in, go hire a bunch of Alexa’s.

You can say as much as you like that …

“We don’t really have competition”.

Or

“We don’t like negative insights”

Or

“We don’t want to talk about negative comments about us”

… but that doesn’t mean we should just accept it.

I don’t get why some people have this belief questioning is wrong.

At its most basic level, questioning is about wanting to understand more and surely that’s a good thing.

And even if we challenge what we’re hearing … it’s not to cause upset, it’s to get to truth.

Real truth, not corporate.

The truth that helps create great work. Not just in terms of creativity and cultural resonance … but commercial value.

If you don’t want to hear that, then frankly, you don’t want to grow. Or evolve. Or do something that can genuinely mean something.

Anyway, the reason for this post is because I was recently talking to a couple of creative mates of mine and they introduced me to the most perfect expression for this new attitude of only wanting and accepting ‘the positive’.

It’s this …

Oh my god, how good is that!!!

I cannot tell you how much I love it.

Not just the expression of Toxic Positivity, but the definition.

“The belief no matter how dire or difficult a situation is, people should maintain a positive mindset. It’s a “good vibes only” approach to life.”

Both are utterly, undeniably, absolutely bloody perfect.

Because both are utterly, undeniably, absolutely bloody true.

When I heard it, it immediately helped explain why I found so many things in LA, so annoying.

Don’t get me wrong, there were amazing people there. And the country is amazing in many ways.

I absolutely feel a deep sense of gratitude for the experience my family and I got to have there.

However quite a lot of people I met had this ability to blatantly ignore reality in favour of repetitively repeating some superficial and delusional positivity while trying to look like they weren’t annoyed when I asked what the hell they were talking about.

Even the mere suggestion that everything was not quite as perfect as they are trying to claim was met with an icy smile.

I think I’ve written about it before, but America taught me the difference between truth and honesty.

For me, truth is often uncomfortable.

It doesn’t mean it’s done to be harmful, but it does force situations to be seen, explored, discussed and dealt with.

But honesty – at least the version of it I experienced in the US – was different.

Honesty there, was truth with so many layers of sugar-coating on it, you didn’t taste any bitterness or sharpness.

What it meant was everything was designed to be easy to swallow … to give the impression of openness without being open.

Silicon Valley are particularly good at this approach.

White people – dealing with issues regarding race – are exceptionally good at this approach.

An ability to ignore reality by communicating an alternative version of it.

One that bursts with positivity and happiness. And if they could add a Unicorn to it, they would.

But it seems Toxic Positivity is becoming more and more prevalent.

And while the picture above shows Zuckerberg, it’s not specifically about him.

It’s about any organisation who deals with the raw realities of life with a thin, pained smile while they slowly and calmly explain to you everything is great and everything their company does is great and to even suggest otherwise – even if it comes from a desire to help make things better – is an act of intolerable aggression.

As much as toxic negativity is a dangerous act, so is toxic positivity.

It denies the truth for the people who need it the most.

And while I get why some companies would rather not deal with that, actively shutting it down to spout some inane and delusional ‘happy clappy’ message is equally as destructive, debilitating and harmful as it’s more negative cousin.

The reality is truth and transparency makes things better.

Nothing shows greater respect than giving someone objective truth for the single reason you want them to succeed more powerfully.

I appreciate it might not always be easy, but it’s always worth it.



When Nothing Is Something …

Otis LOVES McDonald’s, so before we left the UK, we decided we’d have some for dinner.

He’s a bit particular about how he likes his Happy Meal, so with that – and the social distancing rules – we used their app to order.

As I was customising his burger [no sauce, no pickles] I discovered the option of having no sauce was unavailable.

THat’s right, you couldn’t, couldn’t have sauce.

Of course it was just a glitch in their system but it did remind me of the time I was in Xiamen in China on a NIKE get-together.

It had been a long and challenging day.

Not with work, but because we had stupidly left our bags, computers and passports in the back of the cab and needed all our powers of deduction and negotiation to get them back.

Trust me, in a city of nearly 4 million people and no details of the cab that had our stuff, that was a pretty big task, but thanks to the brilliance of Charinee and Jenny, we achieved it … so after that drama and then running a workshop for the NIKE Running team … we went back to our hotel tired and hungry.

We decided to have a drink in the bar and order some food.

After looking at the menu, we quickly ordered 2 cheese and tomato pizzas.

“Sorry …” they said, “… we only have pepperoni pizza available”.

By that point, we had set our heart on pizza so I looked at the waited and replied,

“Could we order the pepperoni pizza but without the pepperoni?”

They nodded yes and soon we were munching on our pepperoni pizza … without the pepperoni … with smug smiles on our faces.

And now I’ve told that story, it’s reminded me of the time I used the same logic to get one over on IKEA Hong Kong, who were trying to fuck me over with a new sofa we bought.

Which all goes to show, the best way to beat a process is to use the process against itself, because for all the ‘experience design’ processes that is all the range right now, most of them are built to protect the company rather than satisfy the audience.



Polishing A Turd With Words …

Recently I saw this ad for British Leyland cars.

British Leyland was a – surprise, surprise – British car manufacturer formed in the late 60’s.

As you can see, they made a huge array of cars but the joke was they weren’t very well made.

If I remember rightly, there was a joke that said:

“Buy British … they fall apart more quickly so you can buy a proper car”.

I don’t know if that was true – though the way British manufacturing has fallen by the wayside, suggests there could be some truth to it – but I do know I thought the TR7 and MGB, the two cars at the top of the pile, were cool.

But let’s look at that ad for a moment.

Cramming four different models of vehicle on a single page is bad enough. But when it has been art directed to look like they’re all on top of each other – resembling a scene from a scrapyard – is hardly the best way to sell ‘British’.

And they are selling ‘British’ because if you look at the very bottom of the ad, you see it’s got a New Jersey address, which suggests this ad was for the US market.

While I get the reason they would want to do that [the US market was huge and the amount of ‘foreign cars’ available at that time was small] I don’t know if that image would make the average American want to give up their GM or Chrysler … especially when the justification British Leyland have for ownership is ‘their appeal is reflected in their recent sales performance’.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

What makes it worse are those words associated with each model.

Bold.
Lively.
Practical.
Legendary.

It all just smacks of early brand consultant bollocks doesn’t it.

And while I kind of get why they chose those words – though labelling the Jag, ‘a legend’, somehow makes it feel old rather than cool – I can’t help feel sorry for the Marina, tagged ‘practical’.

At least those other models have words that suggest some element of energy and dynamism to them, but ‘practical’ just sounds like they’re trying to say ‘shit’ in a more polite way.

To be fair, they’re right. It was shit.

My Dad had – for a short while – a Marina.

In mustard yellow and brown.

It was utterly horrific.

Even though his was the ‘fastback’ model, I still remember being utterly embarrassed by it.

The colour, The shape. The everything.

I was so glad when he got rid of it, though I have a horrible feeling he changed it for another yellow car – this time a Fiat 128 – but at least that had 4 doors, which made it feel a step up.

But imagine how a Jag owner would feel after spending thousands on their car, only to see that piece of Marina engineering shit was ‘on top’ of their premium priced motor.

British Leyland always seemed to have a knack of fucking things up.

Continually chasing others success with bad interpretations of their own.

It’s a bit like small film studios …. who on seeing another movies success, launch a tsunami of similar themed films, all with names that are derivatives of the original, in the hope people may get confused and see their’s instead.

British Leyland totally adopted this strategy.

The TR7 was the Fiat X/19

The Marina was the Ford Cortina

And in 1980, the Mini Metro was their version of the Mini.

Oh my god, I remember the launch of that car.

It was heralded as the pinnacle of the British car industry and launched with one of the most jingoistic ads you’ll ever see.

Did you see it?

Jesus christ … it’s like it was written by the Far Right.

Or the Daily Mail.

I still remember when it got unveiled and just thinking, “it looks shit”.

Well, while it didn’t end up ‘taking over the world’, it was successful in the UK and even saved British Leyland from bankruptcy – for a while – but what it all ends up reminding me is how many companies forget that just because something is successful in one country doesn’t mean it will work in another.

I’ve seen – and worked in – too many organisations who think they are the best in the World.

That their worst is better than everyone else’s best.

That sort of thinking is a recipe for disaster.

Not just in terms of encouraging laziness, but it’s one thing to think you’re good, but it’s another thing altogether to think everyone else is just a lesser version of you.

The amount of companies I saw crash and burn in China was amazing.

Thinking that by simply being ‘Western’, they would be appealing.

Maybe that worked before, but what they failed to realise is that in a nation where everything said something about you, it quickly became the most brand literate nation on the planet.

The old premise remains.

If you want others to respect you, respect them … and it starts by not just trying to sell something because it convenient to you.

Amazing how few people still seem to understand that.



When Is A Logo Not A Logo?

Well I told you I wouldn’t be writing any posts for a while and I have to say, I’m as surprised as you that I managed to stick with it.

Obviously a lot has happened in the past few weeks – including learning how nothing tests how good your family relationships is, like being cooped-up in a small hotel room together for 2 weeks, 24/7 – but we’re happy, excited and up for adventure.

Before I begin, I have to say how amazing the New Zealand organisation is.

So clear, consistent and compassionate.

For someone who had a very privileged covid lockdown period, I was amazed how much it had affected me when I came to a place where I didn’t have to worry about mad decisions and u-turns.

Anyway we got through quarantine, already bought houses and cars [I know, I know] so this week is about stretching our legs, getting Otis a school, ensuring Rosie – the cat – gets to complain as much as she likes and generally getting our bearings of the city before starting at Colenso.

But that’s all for another day, today I want to kick-start the regularity of this blog with this piece of rubbish.

Now I know the re-design of the Burger King logo is not new news.

And neither is what I will be writing about, as I talked about it when it happened.

But while I like many things about the new/old BK design, the thing I like most is how perfect it is for the emoji universe.

Seriously, look at it. It’a the most emoji thing ever.

Sure, I could talk about how clever the B and K fit together.
Sure, I could talk about how I’ve not seen a logo that made me smile since since SONOS.
Sure, I could talk about how it’s as squidgy as sinking your teeth into a Whopper.

But I’m not. I’m going to say how perfectly it would go with other fast food emoji’s already available.

🍔 🍟 🥤

Come on … you so can see it fitting in with that group can’t you.

Now imagine how it could be used to communicate BK’s food menu?

Or, better yet, how it could be used for TikTok/Whatapp order functionality?

Imagine being able to order BK delivery simply by emoji on whatever platform you’re on?

When I was at Deutsch, they tried something like it for Taco Bell using Slack.

Obviously it wasn’t in emoji form and there’s questions how successful it actually was – but it showed there’s more ways to order food than simply going on a website or app.

If that wonderful BK logo was turned into the emoji it begs to be, it could be a really interesting way to drive delivery using the platforms and iconography of culture.

McDonald’s had to pay Travis Scott millions to deepen their connection with culture. BK could do it in an emoji. Their emoji.

OK, I know that is easier said than done and emoji’s are carefully controlled, but given BK’s love of trying to be controversial to be noticed, here is something they could do that has a real benefit and value to all, not just the BK PR department.

Maybe.

I also know some people are slagging the logo off.

Saying it makes the brand look as old as their food or that they need to get their stores looking clean before relaunching their brand design. But apart from those people making the classic mistake of being subjective rather than objective … I’d love to see the work they’ve done recently that proves their actions rather than their words.

God, that was feisty wasn’t it?

I’m definitely back and rested.

But all that aside …

While it’s really nice to see a brand using design to be both distinctive and authentic – versus the corporately beige approach that seems to be the norm for so many – I really hope they see the opportunity for it to be more more than just a static image. Because I have a feeling if they embraced the way culture uses social and platforms, that logo could be more than a branding device, but something that dramatically drives revenue.

You’re welcome BK.



We’ll Meet Again …

So even though we are not leaving for NZ for a month, this is my last post for at least a month.

Moving countries always requires a bunch of things to be done, and despite us being old hands at it, doing it during a pandemic means we have a bunch more stuff to do – hence the blog post rest.

Being back in England has been a special time.

Part of it is because I never thought I would have lived here again.

Part of it is because I have been able to catch up with old friends once more.

Part of it is because I love big cities and always wanted to live in London.

Part of it is because despite its bullshit, it’s still my home and I’ve loved being in a place where so much of it just felt natural.

And part of it is because of the new friends I have met along the way.

To think I didn’t know people like Tanter, Nils, the beautifully irresponsible – in the most responsible way – Mike and Sam, the entire planning gang at R/GA [though Lachlan did remind me when I started that we had once met in Australia … when he was a student, hahahaha], Michael Roberts, Ben Major, Tarik at Onroad, Sam Clohesy, Ian Preston, Trudie, the inspirational [whether he accepts that or not] Murray Calder, Keerti, Munraj, Larissa Vince – who is a better Nottingham Forest than I could ever be, John, Nana at POCC, Asheru, Louise Jack, Eduardo, Sara Tate, Holly Day, Ally and everyone at Brixton Finishing School, Dorcas, Abi, the incredible Kay Adekunle Rufai from the S-M-I-L-E-ing Boys project, Nick Hirst, Tom Roach and countless other people from work or – shock, horror – Twitter [including one of my ad-icons, Trevor Beattie] … is astounding.

And while I am thrilled to be going to New Zealand for our next adventure, leaving England is much harder than I thought it would.

Without doubt, a big part of that is because as much as I’ve been away, it still feels like home.

Not just because we bought our beautiful house here, but because my beloved Paul and Shelly are here.

And while the pandemic meant we didn’t see each other as much as we would have liked, it’s more than I’d had in quarter of a century and I will treasure that as much as I treasure the fact Paul and I are still as stupid together, as we were when we were kids.

England is where I was raised.

And while I have sold the family home to buy our new family home … it doesn’t take away from the fact, so many of the things that made me who I am, were made here.

Of course I wish my Mum and Dad were still alive.

How I would have loved to have made them happy to be ‘home again’.

How I would have loved to have spent so much time chatting and remembering together.

But maybe it they were still alive we wouldn’t have gone to NZ and so it appears they are still encouraging me to explore, even without them here anymore.

Though I would happily swap it all for another day together, even though I am also happy they have not had to endure the hardship that COVID has placed on the country. I can’t imagine what it would be like for them to have to deal with it and I have nothing but admiration for any person trying to manage/balance that situation with their own family.

But we’re off … and frankly, the idea of going to New Zealand feels like one of the greatest gift in the World.

That we will soon be in a country where WE CAN GO OUT TO DINNER IN A RESTAURANT seems almost impossible.

That we will soon be in a country where Otis CAN PLAY OUTSIDE WITH HIS [NEW] FRIENDS WHENEVER HE WANTS is a dream.

That we will soon be able to go visit Jill’s Mum IN A MATTER OF HOURS is madness, given it’s been 17 years since she could do that.

And that I get to do this while working at one of my favourite companies in the World – the brilliant Colenso – is, frankly, insane.

I’m so excited for the adventures we’ll have.
The experiences we will discover and learn from.
Not to mention the work I will able to be a part of creating.

That said, I cannot thank all the brilliant people who have made my return to England so special, enough.

I will miss so much about here, but the memories will also last me through till our return.

And we will be back.

Don’t know where. Don’t know when.

But – not wishing to make it sound like a threat – I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.

Take care of yourselves. Thank you for everything.

See you on the other side. Literally and metaphorically.