I’ve never been comfortable with the notion of values but I’ve never quite known why. And then someone here at WMW crystallised it for me. ‘Patience,’ she wrote, ‘is a much under rated value.’ And that’s when it struck me. Patience is a virtue. It is an action we choose to take. A value is something we hold inside us. It is private. A virtue, on the other hand, is public: it is what we do. This simple semantic thought has led me to the grandiose conclusion that it is far better for a company to extol virtues because these can be observed and managed. Values can only be inferred and aren’t susceptible to managing.

Abandon all talk of values, o firms of the world. You have nothing to lose but your posters.

Has there ever been a water cooler moment about people having a chat by the water cooler? Sorry if that’s a bit meta for this time of day. There’s a point hovering just out of sight, I’m almost sure of it.

(Moreover, do people really stand around the water cooler talking about the latest water cooler moment? Me, I’m not at the water cooler long enough to chat about celebrity cellulite or the latest televisual cliffhanger. Glass in place, press the button, fill her up, off I go. Maybe water cooler moments are just another whimsical invention of marketing people. Like the suggestion that any sane woman would feel genuinely humiliated if her whites where noticeably less white than someone else’s whites. Digression ends.)

Back to my original, head-spinning question. Social media is being touted as the latest must have for creating connections with potential consumers or employees.

But it’s essential to remember that social media is never where these relationships with brands start. If people are going to talk about you, you need to give them something to talk about.

Blazingly obvious when you spell it out. But it’s a fact that many seem to overlook in the rush to generate Twitter followers and Facebook fans.

Social media can’t create relationships where none exist; but, used smartly, it can strengthen those you’ve already developed.

It’s not where the buzz starts. It’s where it continues.

I recently read an idea for a new agency model in the comments section of one of the multifarious creative blogs out there. It struck me as sheer brilliance. Here’s how it works.

Basically, you pick a brand (any brand) and start doing advertising on its behalf.

You don’t need their permission, which straight away cuts out the stress and expense of the pitch process. Plus, imagine how cool the work would be if you didn’t have a pesky brief to fulfil, constraining brand guidelines to consider or even anyone else’s opinions corrupting your pristine vision.

You continue doing this free of charge until, inevitably, the brand in question becomes a world-famous category leader. And here’s the clever bit.

You then demand huge sums of money from said brand – otherwise you will STOP what you’re doing.

I’m currently looking to raise the (substantial) capital needed to get this idea up and running. If you’re interested, you know where to find me.

What could possibly go wrong?

Today a client had the brazen cheek to give feedback on an ad I was involved with. I know. I was apoplectic too. The gist of it was, “We love it but could you tone it down a bit for the audience?”

It will surprise no one to hear that this happens a lot when you work at a creative agency.

In fairness, it’s easy to be all brave and edgy when it’s not your £multi-million logo that’s going to be sitting in the corner. Looking all sheepish if you’ve judged it wrong.

But I still think it’s worth a moment to reflect on the assumptions behind that kind of feedback.

It’s basically saying, “Of course, we get it. But they won’t.”

It says, “As an individual, I enjoyed that. It tickled me. But The Audience is not like you or me. They are faceless, humourless drones. They won’t be entertained. They will be furious.”

I should point out at this point that the audience in this case is essentially regular Joes and Janes – not a fervent ascetist cult. And that the ad in question featured neither nudity nor animal cruelty.

I can understand the desire to avoid courting controversy. But often this protective corporate instinct goes into overdrive. It sees scandal everywhere. It turns a simple, human piece of communication into a soulless, homogenised husk.

(The Client Service Manager will doubtless be giggling at the melodrama of all this – it was a pretty minor change. But it’s the principal of the thing!)

Are these changes made because people genuinely think they’re the right thing to do? Or because of some nebulous sense of corporate rectitude looming over their shoulder like Banquo’s ghost?

I dunno. I just write offensive ads.

It was The Institute of Internal Communications Awards 2010 on Friday night (the artist formerly known as Communicators in Business). And, together with our talented chums from the O2 IC team, we were chuffed to pick up a gong for ‘Best Reward and Recognition’. Huzzah!

The night didn’t get off to the best of starts. Having manfully resigned myself to missing the England game, one of the O2 gang whipped out her iPhone and got the whole game live streaming. Magic. Except, as history will reflect, it wasn’t.

No matter. Shortly after the whistle was blown on that aberration, the world of spin’s most spinniest spinster, spinmeister-general Alistair Campbell took to the stage and delivered a blinding speech. I mean blinding in the most literal sense. By that point I’d consumed an ill-advised quantity of white wine and the stage lights were really bright.

Then the awards began. All 35 of them. To be fair, it was all conducted with ruthless efficiency. Nominees announced, winner declared, blast of contemporary popular music, shake Big A’s hand, pose for photo, jog on.

Listen to me, pretending to be all like, whatevs. My hoop was well and truly a-cocked when our turn came around and we got the nod. Less thrilled when I realised I’d been nominated to represent WMW in the twosome who would actually go and collect the award.

Possibly through our last minute booking arrangements, our table was located at the remotest possible point from the front of the room. At that moment, the path from table to stage seemed roughly equidistant to the path from Bag End to Mount Doom.

I staggered gamely towards the light with an amiable (drunk) grin plastered on my face and the whole handshaking/posing/leaving thing seemed to go okay. I didn’t fall over or insult anyone and I’m 90% sure my flies were in the appropriate position. Returning to our table, group hugs and multiple high fives ensued. Oh yes. We were classy in victory.

Congrats to all the night’s other winners and short-listers. If I met you on the dance floor, I can only apologise.

Favourite hazy flashback
Mr Campbell’s segue into announcing our triumph:

“And the winner is the entry the judges said had the wow factor – Fanclub!”

One of the competing category entries was called ‘The WoW! Factor’.

The ladies of WMW ventured out last night to hip new micro-boutique 40 Winks in Mile End. As far as I could fathom, the event involved dressing in nightwear, sipping cocktails from tea cups and listening to fanciful (i.e. weird) stories. Naturally, us blokes weren’t invited. Though apparently this didn’t stop half of East London’s male population whom, having got wise to the ‘girls in undies’ theme, suddenly warmed to the idea of being transported into a magical, whimsical fairytale land where they could explore their heretofore undiscovered sensitive sides. Anyhoo, Lando’s written a poem about it. I think you’ll agree, it’s enchanting stuff.

Once upon a time…

In a land far away from Clerkenwell (but still this side of Bow); there were eight lovely ladies dressed up from head to toe.

The night was young, the air was warm and excitement filled the air! The first stop was dinner… where the chefs seemed not to care. They tried to poison Jenny TWICE, with pine nuts everywhere.

‘Oh never mind,’ the ladies cried, we have far more adventurous plans… off to the wondrous 40 Winks, for gin, stories and lullabies.

Eight ladies dressed in their finest nightgowns filled the ornate rooms, they sipped cocktails from teacups, nibbled on treats – oh, they were over the moon!

Ascending the stairs to the music room, they were told such enchanting tales… midsummer nights dreams and fairies, sweet romance …Oh! More cocktails!

The opium den was to follow, where soft music flowed through our ears, our eyes were starting to fall… when Mr Carter then said adieu to us all.

The eight lovely ladies sleepily wandered home to bed, and awoke the next morning surrounded by fairies all…perhaps it was only a midsummer nights dream after all.

The End.

I gave a speech on social media at work the other day. It was to IC practitioners in the financial services industry.
The central point of my speech was that trying to use a cascade to irrigate people with information pertinent to what your firm is up to is highly inefficient because communication by cascade is a flawed model.
Oh the irony then that the organisers forbad water at the lecturn for the speaker.

Hedgehog cake
For: Jenny McCarthy

Woolloomooloo!

Upon asking Miss McCarthy what cake she would like, it started out with ‘Oh I’m easy. Just a simple chocolate cake, please…’ followed by an in-depth cake conversation, ending with her favourite children’s cake – the hedgehog cake. Little did she know I would actually make it! It really was fun. Decorating, cutting it into shape and layering it with fur-like icing. Cake bliss if you ask me.

The good: if you haven’t already guessed, I’m quite proud of this little number, and what a beauty this hedgehog was! With its sparkly silver eyes… pink and chocolate glitter coat… and chocolate coated spikes… well you get the point!

The bad: This hedgehog was layered, with icing in between. When the cake came out of the oven however, I was a little silly and didn’t wait until it had cooled down – resulting in the middle icing mostly disappear into the cake! Whoopsy daisies!

Delicious? What’s that saying they have in fashion? No pain no gain? Well I suppose we can apply that here. This cake was all about looks, and when you want to look good – much like 6 inch heels – you need to compromise on comfort (or in our case, taste). So although it tasted pretty good, this hedgehog was definitely more a looker!

Lando x

Like all siblings, my sister and I punctuated our otherwise happy childhood with regular bouts of fisticuffs. My sister, being taller, would deliver devastating noogies; I’d reply with a no less vicious Chinese burns. Fish fingers were the most common culprit. Y’see we’d developed a bizarre competitiveness that meant at every opportunity, we’d gleefully whip out our Barbie rulers and scrutinise the exact proportions of whatever was put in front of us. Bits of toast, fairy cakes, even the unsuspecting yolk of a poached egg. Potential minefields, all of ‘em.

And so to a similar – though less violent – dedication to measurement; Melcrum’s Employee Engagement conference. Taking place in London’s Bloomsbury Hotel (not the other Bloomsbury Hotel a few doors down, as a few perplexed late-comers found), the two-day event rumbled through the questions keeping IC folk awake at night. Is social media a fad? (A: Hell, no) Is there really any substitute for our people having a regular chinwag with their line managers? (A: Not really). Can we really do more with less? (A: You betcha – but only if you’re smart, set the appropriate expectations of what you’ll get, and work with an exceptional agency).

And with each presentation came the inevitable question: “did you measure it?” For it seems that engagement, a previously nebulous ‘nice to have’, has been replaced by science. As I sat through slide after slide of decimal percentile increases, ratios and indexes it was clear that meaty metrics are so hot right now. Keynote presenter Mothercare had the daddy of metrics – a 28% growth in international revenue, attributed in large part to its creation of a company culture, or DNA, modeled on the best people in its business. (‘Attributed in large part’ sounds suspiciously like ‘Possibly was related but we don’t really know despite all the numbers on this here PowerPoint presentation’. Cynical Ed – see this and this.)

Other presenters from the likes of Mars, London Overground Rail Operations and Coca Cola Enterprises also showed the link between the work of their IC teams and improved employee engagement. Here, success was defined by improved EOS scores, rather than demonstrating a direct correlation to bottom line profit. But for the audience – and presumably, the bosses of those organisations – this was proof enough.

Of course, in the current climate IC folk are feeling the pressure to demonstrate the value engagement activities (and they themselves) bring to their organisation. But be weary of overkill. I lost count of the number of people who mentioned they were doing yet another survey on what their people were going to do differently, better, or more of as a result of this and that communication. “I’m not sure what more we can ask of them,” one bemused lady from a high street retailer told me over a muffin. “Isn’t it enough that they’re doing a good job?”

Here, incidentally, are some pictures of WMW’s Victorian sweetshop, where IC folk would gather in droves during mid afternoon coffee to repair their waning energy levels from all that brain action. Eclairs and Sherbet Lemons went down a treat – thanks to everyone who visited. If you’re wondering why our Lord and Master is sat at the counter, it’s because the stand has since been relocated to WMW Towers and Richard has taken it upon himself to become a latter day Willy Wonka.

Revoke golden ticket. Check.

Expect an invitation for a natter over a cuppa very soon. You really must have some of the leftover sweets. Really. We’re struggling here.

In his excellent book A Technique for Producing Ideas (45 years old but as relevant as ever), James Webb Young declared: “An idea is nothing more nor less than a new combination of old elements.” But sometimes even that can be too much effort for the busy creative-about-town. So, here’s a wholesale re-post from one of my favourite blogs – The Ad Contrarian. I couldn’t have said it better myself. So, I didn’t.

The Power of Specificity

There are a lot of good Italian restaurants in my neighborhood. But I go to one regularly because I love the bread.

My favorite sneakers aren’t the ones that look the nicest or absorb shock the best. They’re the ones that are the widest.

My favorite recording isn’t of the best song I ever heard, or have best vocal I ever heard, but it does have my favorite sax solo.

The point is — like most people — when I have a preference, it is usually for a very specific reason.

And yet, throughout my career one of toughest things I have had to do is to convince my clients to be more specific.

Many have a hard time understanding that “we answer on the first ring” is a more powerful statement than “world class service.”

They don’t believe that “50 dollars off” is a stronger motivator than “we’ll make your dreams come true.”

Many have thought that the bigger and more ambiguous the promise, the bigger the payoff.

It is usually the opposite. The more specific the promise, the more believable the proposition.