You Are Immediately Judged By Your Job Title.

When I was a kid, one of our Saturday Night family treats was watching baffling yet entertaining quiz show 3-2-1.  One time, when the host Ted Rogers was introducing the contestants, a man said he was a 'refuse collection operative'.  A bemused look fell across Ted's face, so the man 'fessed up to the fact that he was a binman.  Cue shrieks of laughter from the audience and indeed my mum and dad as that little working class chap came up trumps in his 15 minutes.  In a heavy dose of irony he actually ended up winning the show's coveted booby prize, Dusty Bin.

Of course, this was all in the realms of Saturday Night Entertainment, a chance to poke a bit of fun at yourself.  Although, the world of political correctness and self-aggrandisement has resulted in some people proudly announcing the most ridiculous job titles today.
One that initially bothered me was Barista.  How did the simple task of pouring overpriced coffee warrant such an appealing job title?  It's used extensively now so I don't even think of the failed actor who serves me my double espresso as a Coffee Monkey anymore, he's my Barista.  I just assumed that he earned his title through months of intense coffee training yet his inability to even remember my order five seconds after I've told him renders this unlikely.  He's a Coffee Monkey.  And Barista is the Italian word for bartender.  Go figure.

Talking of bartenders, I was in Trader Dick's with a client last week and on the cocktail menu it said 'If you would like something that isn't on this list, please ask our Mixologist to make it for you.'  Yes, I'll tell you what isn't on this list, the name of the university your 'Mixologist' got his degree from.  Was it the London School of Blagonomics?

What does the title Lifeguard say to you?  It's a sexy, heroic vocation that conjurs up images of the babes and beefcakes of Baywatch running in slow motion on the beach.  Who wouldn't be proud of being called a Lifeguard?  Well, if you work for Shropshire County Council, you're a Wet Leisure Assistant.  I kid you not, job application below. 

A Casual Wet Leisure Assistant!  How can you be casual and wet?  I'd love to know the job title of the people who are making up the job titles.  Can you think of a good one?  Answers on a tweet to the usual address.

Shropshire aren't the only offenders, nearly every County Council has a Teenage Pregnancy Co-ordinator - they're not really thinking these through, are they?   My sister once applied for the job of Family Protection Consultant which turned out to be insurance telesales and my friend who works at a Pharma Giant informs me that they have a Head of Infectious Diseases.  Most people prefer to do meetings with him over the phone.

Which brings us neatly to the corporate world.  In the last few years the job titles in the city have become increasingly ridiculous.  If you give me your business card and your job title is nearly hanging over the edge, I immediately judge you.  Why do you need this fancy tag?  If your job role isn't easily identifiable from the first scan of your card, you have failed.  Keep it simple.

Name: John Doe

Job Title: Associate Vice President of Strategic Solutions, Shareholder Networks, Customer Optimisation and Collaborative Applications.

Departments: Small Winkie, Insecure Loser.

This practice has a nametag of its own - Uptitling - and it's now recognised as a way of giving people prestige in place of a payrise.  Obviously, a Senior Business Development Manager would feel more pride in their position than the lowly Salesperson even though it has exactly the same job specification.  These titles are a way of making the staff feel more appreciated and valued without them knowing that the directors had a really good laugh at their expense making them up whilst drinking over-priced cocktails at Trader Dick's.

Yet I can forgive all of these misjudged job titles apart from Guru.  I hear it all the time - Marketing Guru, Technology Guru, New Media Guru.  A Guru is a spiritual teacher, one who imparts initiation and transcendental knowledge, it is NOT someone who sets the alarm for 6am every morning, puts a suit on and takes a crowded train for an hour to get to an office full of other people with overblown job titles, that's just a sad old man who's hit the skids before his 50th and needs to big himself up.  Someone who ironically could benefit from sitting on a mountain in India for a few weeks to find himself.  Check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Signing off,

Name: Brian Story

Job Title: BLOGGER 

Look at that! 7 letters and does what it says on the tin!

When Your Worst Employee is the CEO

Number 1 in a fairly long series...

Today we focus on All-American fashion retail brand for the vague and vain, Abercrombie and Fitch.

The brand has come under fire in recent years for their exclusionary tactics in creating an exclusive brand.  Unashamedly admitting to only employing good-looking sales staff and only stocking womens' pants up to a size 10 - so overweight ladies don't ruin their carefully-constructed brand - and all backed-up by a CEO who spits out soundbites that could have been lifted straight from the script of Mean Girls.

And the man in question?  The CEO of this image-driven, over-confident, aspirational fashion brand?  Step forward, Mike Jeffries, the aborted lovechild of Boris Johnson and Jackie Stallone.

Public backlash to Jeffries' comments have seen Abercrombie & Fitch sales plummet by 17% in the first quarter.  Would you buy a pair of stonewashed jeans from this man?  How about the flip-flops?

I'm guessing that the good-looking staff rule is only confined to his stores else I can't see how Mr. Jeffries gets past security at head office every morning.  In his current state, he's more suited to be a Gary Busey look-a-like, but only of the Celebrity Rehab years.

Time for a reshuffle at Abercrombie & Fitch, where the worst employee is the CEO.

Attack of the Killer Bees!

Last night, I was relaxing on the sofa with my partner and a nice glass of Chablis, it had been a long day and it was time to chill with some braindead TV.  We were only ten minutes into My Tattoo Addiction when a blood-curdling scream came from my teenage daughter's bedroom.  What on earth had just happened?  Had Dave Lee Travis popped up on Instant Chat?  I raced in to find Jemima cowering in a corner and pointing goggle-eyed at her bedpost.  I couldn't see anything and she was having trouble relaying her problem to me as she started to hyperventilate.  I looked at the bedpost again.  Then at Jemima.  She was terrified.  

Oh no, has she finally started seeing dead people?  It runs in the family, my nan was well-known for her ability to speak to the other side.  She actually got committed because of it.  Her frequency of chatting to the dead increased tenfold after a few rounds of electric shock therapy.  Did all that ECT open up a gateway into the Land of the Dead or did it just turn her into a proper mental?  It's so hard to tell.  For reference, please see Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost or for a real case, Sally Morgan Star Psychic.

Upon further investigation, it appeared that the source of Jemima's trauma was a spider, she has a severe aversion to them.  I tried to explain that the tiny spider is way more scared of the 50ft apoplectic teenage girl but it's no good, she has a phobia, as simple and scary as that.  I scooped up the monster and put it out the back door.  Her Father, The Hero.

I've always been confident with creepy crawlies, I've even been known to humanely trap mice and set them free down the road in the traffic warden's garden.  Two birds, one stone, but just before I have you thinking that I'm a proper little Doolittle, I should admit to the chink in my armour.  There's one type of minibeast that I don't mix well with and that's the flying, stinging variety.  They're too erratic, bees aren't so bad, they're a bit bumbling and easy to navigate away from but wasps are quick and tenacious.  You're also limited to how you can deal with them, you can't scoop them up and put them out the window as you might receive a nasty sting.  My fear isn't irrational.  When I was 9, me and Jason Kennedy thought it would be a good idea to throw a rock at a wasps' nest.  It wasn't.  I sprinted the half mile home screaming until my mum had swatted all the wasps that had got tangled in my hair.  I got stung.  A lot.  Ever since then, I've broken out in a cold sweat whenever I hear an approaching buzz.  So imagine my horror when I saw this yesterday.

GIANT KILLER HORNETS HAVE KILLED 41 PEOPLE IN CHINA.

I feel ill.  Even though this is happening 5,000 miles away, I am anxious.  Look at the size of those things, they aren't hornets, they're birds!  Killer birds!

Swarms of the monsters have been on the attack in China and 1,600 people have had to receive treatment.  There is some footage of the damage their stings do to the human body but please do not look if you are squeamish, it's the most  distressing thing I've seen since George Galloway role-played a cat for Rula Lenska.  Nasty Hornet Stings

Experts are blaming the prevalence of the swarm on urbanisation.  Of course, us city folk are once again the scourge of Mother Nature.  All these 'experts' are just tree-hugging crusties who are ambling their way through life on antihistamines and organic vegetable gardens when they know they'd much prefer to be sipping Cosmopolitans with us in the city.  Their inability to hold down a professional job usually stems from their inability to wash their clothes and the only people who will spend any other time with them are other hippies and the bees.

Then I got thinking.  Perhaps all this is a conspiracy.  The crusty brigade make no bones about how much they hate us high-achievers, it all stems from jealousy.  Nearly every one of those dreadlocked soap-dodgers comes from a middle-class background, some of them had a much better education than you or I but somewhere along the way, due to too much dope-smoking or parental apathy, they opted out and now it's too late to join the gravy train so they spend their time bitterly trying to spoil our corporate fun through guilt-tripping petitions and protests although it's a futile fight as they constantly bray about how the corporate world has no conscience so how can we ever be tripped into feeling guilty?  A fatal flaw in your plan there, Swampy.

Yesterday I saw an ad on the underground where you could send off for a packet of seeds to grow a bee-friendly garden.  This is a trap.  All of this bee-friendly buzz is coming straight from the Hippy Hive, there is a Hippy Queen B (with hairy armpits) sending out appeals and it's all part of an evil plan to take over the world.  They know they are no match for us corporate types so they are calling on their consorts - the things with stings that can fly.  They are building an army of Giant Hornets and are tricking us into creating an environment for them to thrive.  The Queen B is the The Wicked Witch of the West and the hornets are her Flying Monkeys.  

Corporate comrades, I am calling on you to start a counter-attack.  You must Kill The Bees.  It's simple - when you see a flying, stinging thing - kill it.  Ignorance will allow this to escalate and we may see a repeat of the events in Oz - but remember - Judy Garland is dead and can no longer save us.  You have been warned.  Kill The Bees NOW or you are leaving your future in the hands of second-in-command, Liza Minnelli.  And she's had a double hip replacement.  ACT NOW or we are all doomed!

One Simple Thing Can Keep Your Customers Coming Back.

I hate shopping.  Especially department store shopping.  It's lost on me why menswear is always on the top floor and has to be navigated via a system of escalators that are never adjacent to each other so in order to keep going up you have to venture through various other departments.  The general consensus is that women enjoy shopping more than men.  Why not put menswear on the ground floor so that men can nip in and out with minimal fuss while women can peruse the store at their leisure.  Also, I would imagine that women are more likely to buy their mens' clothes than vice versa so it makes more sense for women to have to stumble though the menswear department to get to their desired destination.  Right?

When I do go shopping, I favour the self-checkout.  It's incredibly annoying, after queueing up for an unacceptable amount of time, to be confronted by someone behind the counter who treats you like a serious inconvenience.  I'm a courteous man, I always say please and thank you and it positively astounds me that some shop staff can barely bring themselves to make eye contact.  It is this lack of general courtesy that pushes me towards the self-checkout.  I find the interaction there has more mutual respect.

I tend to do most of my shopping online these days.  I often work from home so can receive deliveries.  It's a painless way to get what you need at a preferable price.  Sometimes I'm forced to go shopping though.  Like today.  Now, if you read my last blog, you will know that I bought my mother-in-law a lovely teaset for her birthday but my partner relayed the information to me this morning that she actually asked for a new knife block and as I'm the one who is more flexible with my working day, could I pick one up?  Gah!

So, of course, being the well-brought up snob that I am, I headed for 'Everyone's Favourite Department Store'.  I happened to be driving around the North Circular to a client meeting so a quick visit to Brent Cross wouldn't interfere with my day too much.  It did interfere with my mood though.  I parked at the wrong end of the centre so the store was a lengthy walk away and it was fairly busy so I had to navigate through the hordes of yummy mummies and their little darlings.  I finally located the store but my trial wasn't over as I then had to find the kitchenware department.  Who designs these shopfloors?  I was close to calling Bear Grylls for assistance.  

Once I was in kitchenware, I then had to find the knife blocks.  I asked a young man in a regulation shirt if he could help me locate them but he had difficulty too, he shrugged his shoulders and told me to ask at the till.  The till was busy, there was a queue.  I waited.  And waited.  There were two people behind the till dealing with one customer.  The people in front of me were becoming tetchy, I began to prickle.  This isn't good enough.  It wouldn't be as bad if the staff behind the counter acknowledged the queue but it's the ignorance that I can't abide.  I left.  Empty-handed.  If they didn't want my money I'd spend it elsewhere.

I got back to the car, annoyed.  I sat there thinking if I had just taken a deep breath and waited five more minutes, I'd have the knife block and the chore would be done, as it stands I've taken 25 minutes out of my day and I have nothing.  Except my pride!  Ha! They lost out on a sale today.  That'll show 'em!  On the news tonight they'll say the shares of 'Everyone's Favourite Department Store' have plummeted due to low sales of knife blocks.  I'm sticking it to the man!

As I drove on a bit further, I came across an Argos Superstore on Staples Corner.  I hesitated.  It's been a long time since I shopped in Argos.  It's a bit chavvy, innit?  I'd long gone given up with the low-end of the High Street but here it was calling out to me.  My mother-in-law doesn't have to know her present came from Argos, they sell branded goods, I can throw away the carrier and giftwrap it in some Harrods paper.

I took a gamble, I drove in and got a parking space opposite the front door.  I held my breath and walked in.  I was immediately relieved to see a spacious, clean and well-lit showroom.  Of course, you don't have to navigate departments and escalators here, everything you need is in the catalogue.  You can go shopping whilst standing still - Amazing!  Also they have keypads so you can check if your item is in stock.  They've really thought of the anti-shopper here, I'm impressed.  I was in luck, the block was in stock so I filled in the little order form with the tiny pencil and headed over to the Quick Card Kiosk.  Great, they have self-checkout, I don't even have to talk to someone who can't stand the very fact that I dared to go into their shop and tried to buy something.  I am peaking.  I go to the Quick Card Kiosk and type in my product number.  Damn.  It's a block with knives which makes it an age-restricted item.  I have no option but to go to the cashier.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  Damn.  I read the screen again just in case, nope, it's still there, I have to go the cashier.  Oh well, here goes nothing...

There is a small queue but it is moving swiftly and by the time I get there, a cashier is free.  She greets me with a warm smile and says hello.  I'm a bit taken aback, has she mistaken me for someone off the telly?  She looks genuinely pleased to see me.  She takes my little slip of paper and apologises that I couldn't use the Quick Card Kiosk as my item has an age restriction.  I didn't prompt this, she'd clocked it all and saw me come over to her till.  She then explained why the knife block was age-restricted - kids and knives don't mix.  I said what if a kid wanted to go to a fancy dress party as Wolverine?  She said they'd have to go as Alvin Stardust coz let's face it, Wolverine is just Alvin Stardust with some fancy knife-hands.  She's absolutely right!  She made me laugh.  A lot.  She then told me that my order would be ready in four minutes.  I doubted this but it didn't matter, I was in a good mood and willing to wait a bit longer for my goods but, just like Rose said, I was walking out of there in 4 minutes with my mother-in-law's present under my arm.  Brilliant.

I never thought I would say this but I had the most pleasant shopping experience of recent times in an Argos store.  Presumably Rose gets the same wages as most other shop staff in this country.  I'm sure that when she was at school, she didn't dream about working in Argos and I'm sure she would most probably prefer to be at home or out shopping herself than sat behind a till all day.  The difference between Rose and the other till people I have encountered is that I have felt the apathy seeping from the others, they made me feel their pain, they shared their disdain.  Rose actually made me forget that I'd just had a prickly experience in 'Everyone's Favourite Department Store', she actually made me forget I was doing a boring chore.  She engaged with me and made me feel like I was a valued addition to her day and I actually went out of there with a smile on my face.  A happy customer. 

I won't be so quick to write off Argos again.  A shopping experience has little to do with the exclusivity of the brand or the expense of the shop fittings, the mood lighting and the BPM of the instore soundtrack.  You can spend millions perfecting what the retail gurus dictate.   It all boils down to the personal transaction between the staff and the customer.  If there is someone like Rose with the widest smile, a warm disposition and a quickfire wit then an anti-shopper like me will leave more than satisfied and who knows?  I may even come back!

Right, I need to get ready to go to dinner with the mother-in-law.  Now, where is that Harrods' wrapping paper?

Why The Little Guy Is Better Than The Big Guy

My sister had a stand at a gifting industry trade fair and she invited me along.  Over the last couple of years, she has seen a hobby - making retro aprons and bunting - turn into a small business and this week she set her stall out among 700 other people who are running similar concerns.

The energy and creativity of these tabletop businesses spilled over a venue the size of a football field.  The place was practically buzzing.  There was so much cool and colour on display, I wondered what would be achieved if all these wonderfully-talented people brought their skills over to the corporate world.

I spoke to lots of stallholders and it seemed that a fair few of them had been down that route already. Many had previous corporate jobs and wanted to become their own boss, nothing new there, but I couldn't help thinking that the business world is a slightly greyer place now all of this talent had jumped ship.

Some were frustrated that even the most groundbreaking companies were still fairly restrictive when it came to creative control.  It seems that multi-million pound corporate juggernauts with huge workforces to support have to remain relatively pedestrian in order to appeal to the widest demographic possible.  They need the megabucks to keep going.  We are suitable impressed with Apple's innovation but the design is very white and clinical, BMW are pretty much middle of the road and Coca Cola tastes are still very vanilla.

It's the small companies that are coming up with the truly creative goods, the tabletop industry is a fertile bed of creative imagination.  One that will no doubt be plundered by the biggies once any designs have broken through to the mainstream.  You only have to see how the clothes on the catwalk at London Fashion Week are sanitised for the High Street to understand this.

If you are lacking inspiration then stay away from the High Street and see what the little guys are doing.  Their problem-solving approaches are interesting.  Did you think that the trade in animal head busts had disappeared since the practice of hunting became unethical?  Not any more.  Handmade animal heads abounded in colours and materials straight out of the 5-year-old's artbox (see my previous blog) and aren't they rather fantastic?

What could be more boring than a smelly, tatty animal bed?  Look at this brilliant easy-clean, bite and scratchproof animal home made into the shape of a frogmonster's head.  Any child would love to have this cool piece of kit in their bedroom leaving the kitchen floor free to store other things like that exercise bike you got for Christmas and never use.

 

Admittedly, sometimes putting a new spin on a tried and tested format doesn't always come up trumps.  I wasn't convinced by these dome umbrellas.  I'm sure they do keep you drier but any bigger and they'd have to call it the umburka.

What was also apparent at the trade fair was how the older, established brands, who had more traditional goods, stepped up their game with their displays.  This rather impressive wall made me wonder how many plates had been broken in the installation.  That can't have been an easy job but it did get me browsing a stall of some rather uninspiring tea sets which I would normally have walked straight past.  It also reminded me it was the mother-in-law's birthday next weekend so it actually brought them a sale too.  I'm sure she'll love the purple-edged cups and saucers, they'll match her varicose veins beautifully.

In the same way that if you want to watch a truly creative film you head for the arthouse cinema rather than the multiplex, if you want to pick us some true creative inspiration then seek out the small homegrown businesses, the people who are following their creative endeavour via a passion rather than a paycheck.  Attending this fair gave me a real motivational boost.  If you're in the corporate side of the creative industries, it's really important to immerse yourself in an environment like a trade fair every once in a while, it will let you remember that not everything has to be stay within the lines and your approach to work can only be enriched by that.

Why Reverting to Childhood is Good For Business Creativity

Often, when I work at home in the evenings, my son Thomas will come and share my desk space and do some schoolwork or art.  I bought a bigger desk precisely for this reason, I felt my workload was neglecting him.  Last night, he was drawing an odd two-headed creature, I asked him what it was.

"It's a cat, daddy"

Hmmm…  interesting, I thought, a two-headed cat!  I asked him why the cat had two heads.  He said:

"Because it has."

There was no logic or drawn out justification, the cat simply had two heads, it's just the way it is.  When he started to fill in the drawing with a green felt tip, I asked him why he was colouring in a cat with green.  He replied unflinchingly:

"It's a green cat, daddy."

Of course it is and why shouldn't it be? 

I consider myself creative, I get paid for my creative input into corporate workshops, company literature and advertising campaigns, I am often commended on my artistic endeavours yet Thomas made me realise that as an adult my creativity has been stifled.  I'm not saying that I should storm into my next ideas session and say "What your brand would really benefit from is a green cat with two heads" but I think I would benefit from throwing off the restrictions of the corporate world, the limitations of grown-up life.

Particularly in business, we learn to do things in a certain way.  We start with a spark in our stomachs determined to set the business world on fire.  Formal education and internships introduce us to a world of suits and spreadsheets which come with a uniform of etiquette that's required to succeed.  We toe the line and learn what works and what doesn't and twenty years later we arrive at Destination Professional which affords us a nice standard of living but leaves our creative ambitions as a flickering candle rather that a blazing trail.

As children, we're not frightened to explore our imagination to its limits, we haven't ventured out into the real world yet, we don't know about the boundaries enforced on us as grown-ups.  Childhood is such an abundantly productive time, it's a shame we no longer allow ourselves to behave in a childlike way or even to remember what it was like.  The next time you sit down to a creative task, take yourself back through the Looking Glass and see what happens.

In business communication, the onus is on information, we have to get the facts across simply and accessibly.  This is imperative but when did we agree that the information had to lack imagination?  Take the glut of recent TV advertising for Pay-day Loan companies.  By law they have to declare a lot of information in a short snap of airtime.  Cash Lady's creative team came up with the idea of sticking a celebrity in front of the camera dictating information.  Wonga presented us with the idea that the company was run by very posh pensioner puppets.  Guess which campaign was the most successful?  Wonga's team presented something that a bunch of schoolkids could have come up with, it's funny and engaging, no mean feat considering that half the country are opposed to the company's business ethics.  The childlike creativity worked and Wonga remains the market leader with reported profits in excess of £1million per week.

When Thomas declared that the cat was green, I didn't argue with him.  His conviction was so strong there was nothing to argue with.  It was a green cat.  Idea sold.  Self-belief holds a lot of authority.  A lot of us lack it, we get intimidated, especially in business situations, we can be sat around a table with others who have more business miles on the clock and even though we have a brilliantly dangerous idea, we're too scared to share it.  Next time, take the plunge, remember that childhood conviction.  What's worse?  The fact that you might get laughed at or the fact that your game-changing concept that could set the business world on fire gets smothered?  If you want other people to believe in you then it's essential you believe in yourself.  Tell them it's a green cat, if they laugh or disagree with you, they are the ones that are wrong.  Conviction is contagious, present your ideas with confidence and belief and even if people don't necessarily like your idea, they will never doubt it.

When faced with naysayers, do as children do, never take no for an answer.  Just follow any young family around a supermarket for evidence of this!  Children have an ability to persist, even when being told firmly 'no' a number of times.  Some of those kids end up with that candy bar.  You see the CEO of your company?  He was the little kid, flailing and crying in the confectionery aisle until his parents submitted.  He didn't take no for an answer and neither should you.  Ever noticed how many CEOs are slightly overweight?  Too much candy.  I bet they blame their parents.

Creative spontaneity is essential in today's information-overloaded corporate world.  Don't be afraid to colour outside of the lines.  Try and undo a little of that well-meaning parental guidance that suggested things had to be done in a certain way.  Go with your crazy idea, tell people about it.  Don't be afraid to be wrong.  Better to fail 100 times before achieving success than never getting there due to fear of failure.  Remember how good that candy bar tasted?

How I Got The Top Trending Topic on Twitter

It's the Holy Grail for Twitter users and internet marketers alike, it's so sought after some people part with their hard-earned for their sponsored piece of Social Media glory yet last Tuesday night I unwittingly set forth a hashtag that became the top trending topic on Twitter.

It all started innocently enough while I was watching The Great British Bake Off on the telly.  Fellow fans of the baking contest regularly comment on the programme using the hashtag #GBBO. 

This week's show was the bread-making challenge which has seen many a previous contestant crash and burn amidst unrisen loaves and overcooked baps.  I tweeted the following:

     

I impressed myself with my accidental bread-based movie pun so I decided to start a hashtag game.  For those who don't know, a hashtag game is a small piece of Twitter fun where puns are created based on two criteria, in this case #breadfilms - putting a spin on movie titles with a bread-based influence.  Like so…

I also used the #GBBO hashtag so other Great British Bake Off fans could see what I was doing.  Fairly soon, others were joining in.  It started slowly at first…

and then people with a larger number of followers joined in…

 Then even famous people!…

Then enough people were playing the game to bring it to the attention of The Great British Bake Off's own Twitter feed.

This game then exploded on Twitter with thousands of people playing it all over the world.  It became the top trending topic in the UK.

Then I got confirmation from Twitter cross-referencing super-computer, Trendinalia, that the trend had indeed started with my single tweet.



SUCCESS AT LAST!!!