Obama, nSynch, and the Pope

You could hear the groans of the staffers and event planners.  You could see their furrowed brows.

An immediate scramble for floor plans. Thoughts of buses and transportation. Security procedures. Do we allow coolers? Install metal detectors? What about concessions? Who gets those? The lighting is no problem but the sound and acoustics can get real tricky. Do we stack everything at one end or put something in the middle and do a 360? What if it rains? What is an appropriate Obama tail-gate party? Even the news organizations don’t know what to do.

All this being the result of Democratic presidential candidate Barak Obama’s decision to join the likes of nSynch and the Pope and give a command performance at Denver’s Mile High stadium.

The “Obama Joins the MIle High Club” references have already begun. Watch for variations thereof.

The McCain camp has (predictably) scoffed at the idea. According to them “Senator Obama and his fellow Democrats are more focused on stagecraft and theatrics than providing real solutions to the challenges facing our nation,” … “A change of venue for a speech isn’t the kind of change the American people deserve or expect — and that’s why we’re confident the next President of the United States will be nominated at the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul.”

(Take that! This is no long McCain vs. Obama. It is St. Paul’s Xcel vs. Denver’s Invesco.  What next?  A battle of team mascots?  State flowers?)

McCain’s team mentions Mile High Stadium in the same breath as “boy bands.”  Obama as Justin Timberlake.  (Let’s hope there is no wardrobe malfunction.)

But Mile High Stadium has also been host to numerous “gatherings of the masses.” According to Newsday:

Graham held a revival meeting at the Stadium in 1957. The same year, Cardinal Spellman celebrated Mass there. Pope Paul VI, on the first papal visit to the United States, appeared in 1965, followed by Pope John Paul II in 1979 (each pontif earning a commemorative plaque in Monument Park alongside baseball greats). Pope Benedict XVI said Mass at the Stadium in April.

You can dismiss the Obama move as theatrics. Or you can see it as the Obama campaign sees it — an opportunity to do something traditional in a very different and expansive way.

Is it an nSynch performance? Or a Papal address?

Either way, it is a considerable undertaking.

And will most certainly be an interesting thing to see unfold.

Score one for physical interaction

News of the day.

In-person conversation is more powerful, more persuasive, more effective, more meaningful than online conversation.

This “first of its kind” (their words) “dog-bites-man” (my words) story is brought to you by Keller Fay and OMD.

Imagine that.  Conversation on a park bench, dinner table, or family sofa still trumps IM, texting, and … yes … blogging.

This gives me hope for humanity.

(Note:  Having just reread the title to this post I realize that I’ll likely get a slew of errant visits.  If you were looking for some other type of physical interaction, sorry.)

When the levee breaks

Growing up in New Orleans, you gain a healthy respect for two things: the Army Corps of Engineers and the Mississippi River.

New Orleans wouldn’t exist — at least in its modern day form — absent the Army Corps. Indeed, it is hard to think that any place that is 6 feet under sea level could.

I grew up a stone’s throw from the Mississippi and often played up and down the levees that protected Jefferson Parish from the river’s current. The levees and the Jefferson Parish pumping station were the only things that separated us from a swamp. It is one marvelous job of engineering.

But eventually the Mississippi River and has its way. And it doesn’t have to be the tsunami of a Katrina. It could just be the river doing what it always does … catch water from the winter snow and spring rains and head it South to the Gulf of Mexico.

You can build as many levees as you will. As high as you will. But eventually the Mississippi and nature will take its revenge.

Unfortunately, Iowans and Missourians are experiencing that today.

Recently my team and I went through our own episode of a broken levee. Like that in Iowa and Missouri, it was a once-in-a-lifetime, perfect storm, Murphy’s Law, everything that can go wrong will go wrong event.

We screwed up. And we screwed up big time.

And like the levees holding back the Mississippi, all the business processes and procedures in place, all the best planning, the loudest exhortations, the noblest of intentions … were overcome by an accumulated series of unanticipated events, bad judgments, unplanned actions, and poor planning.

Not good.

So what do you do?

Well, you can blame the Corps. And you can blame the river. Right now you see a lot of both.

But neither are very constructive.

I think the everyday people in Iowa and Missouri are a good guide for all of us.

You suck it up. You take your lumps.

You complain and indulge in self pity long enough to remind yourself that you’re human but quickly move on.

Good brands don’t make excuses. They know that eventually their levees will break.

And you either build the levees higher or figure out a way to move to higher ground.

A belated Father’s Day post

The aircraft carrier Midway is docked in San Diego harbor about one mile from where I’m staying. I passed it during my morning run. Across the harbor I saw three other aircraft carriers and assorted navy vessels docked in port. Large, cold, gray, steel structures. All awaiting sea duty.

And as I passed by on a hot morning in Southern California a handful of stray thoughts came together.

  • I thought of my father who spent a third of his life in the Navy and a good part of that at sea.
  • I remembered my children calling me last Sunday to wish me a Happy Father’s Day. How great that was. How proud I was of them. And how unfortunate that there was no one for me to call.
  • I thought of the news of Tim Russert’s passing and the interviews his son gave over the weekend. I thought of Russert’s book about his father and my repeated threats (any meager attempts) to write a similar book about my dad, Jerald E. Johnson.

So here’s a belated tribute to my father for Father’s Day. You can see him here. It is my favorite picture. He’d been at sea for I don’t know how long. A long time. I think 9 months was standard back then. He just got news that he was going home. Going home to see his cherished wife and growing family. He asked his buddy to take a picture. It was over a hundred degrees below deck somewhere in the mid-Pacific. But captured in that singular moment is a man so happy, so joyous, so excited, that no amount of physical pain or discomfort mattered. He was going home.

By any modern-day objective standard, my father was not a great man. He didn’t amass large amounts of money. He didn’t end up in history books. He won’t be known for holding records or achieving breakthroughs. There were no television cameras at his funeral. He was wise but didn’t claim any towering intellect or superior skill. He had no 15 minutes of fame.

But by human standards — by personal standards — he was an impressive and influential figure. He was a man of superior integrity and character. He believed in the value of honesty, decency and hard work. He was a man completely in love and dedicated to his wife, Joyce (he confided in me often that he loved Mom so intensely he couldn’t imagine life without her). He was a Christian who combined an intense faith with even more intense love and compassion. He was kind, loving and generous. But he also believed in asking tough questions and challenging foolishness. He made people think. Finally, he was humble and genuinely more interested in others than himself. (That alone would disqualify him from modern day concept of “greatness.”)

I say with full confidence and strength of character that I — and most others — would do well if we only were to come close to the standards of character, commitment, and compassion that Jerald E Johnson set for me and my family.

What does any of this have to do with ideas, issues, and brands?

Perhaps this.

Perhaps we should think twice about our obsession with youth. Perhaps we should reconsider and reignite a respect for ancestors. Perhaps we should second guess our mistaking celebrities for heroes.

Perhaps we should put more value in character than we do in accomplishment.

So thanks, Dad.

Happy (belated) Father’s Day.

I will always love you.

Two big worlds collide in San Diego

I try and keep the business of my business outside the Juice Bar. But sitting at the Starbucks on the corner of 1st and Market in downtown San Diego, I feel compelled to do a quick post on two big events that collided in San Diego.

First, the BIO Convention taking place in San Diego this week. It is big. Very, very big. All of the convention center and dozens of hotels. BIO people everywhere. Oh, and not only is the convention physically big, it is conceptually big. Their theme: Heal, Feed, Fuel the Planet. Now that is big. No setting the bar low here. (Note: I and some of my colleagues are doing some work with BIO. But they were the ones with the “heal, feed, and fuel” thing. Which is good. And big. And accurate. Great combination.)

Second, up the beach there was the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines. It was the biggest Open ever … and perhaps the most exciting. 50-60 thousand spectators. And estimated group fifteen thousand just following Tiger Woods. Now that is a posse! All around San Diego, every airport concourse, every hotel lobby and bar, every street … people toting USGA bags and U.S. Open memorabilia. And it came down to a draw after an 18-hole playoff and Tiger Woods, the world’s greatest golfer, emerging victorious.

The Open was to end Sunday. The BIO Conference Monday. But the U.S. Open’s 18-hole playoff caused these two giants to collide.

So there everyone was.

BIO Conference badges melding with U.S. Open paraphernalia. Corporate execs huddled in front of any flat screen that they can find in between meetings. Cheers and groans from each shot at Torrey Pines filtering down convention halls, committee meetings, hotel lobbies. For a moment, healing, feeding, and fueling the world had to take a short pause. Anybody who saw the Open contest could understand.

Service

A simple word. But very powerful when put into action.

I saw that recently. I was part of something last week that I’ll remember for a long time. It gave me confidence that in a world awash with $130 a barrel oil, killer tomatoes, natural disasters, and financial meltdowns … there is hope. The hope I saw was in the commitment of young people to the notion of service.

First, a word about service, brands, and business. Folks have heard me say more than once that customer service is the new brand marketing. I didn’t think this up. Others did. And their argument is compelling. Great service can overcome obstacles, mask material and technology shortcomings, and cover up blemishes better than any cosmetic.

Ritz Carlton. Southwest. Starbucks. It is not the glitz or pr or marcom that built their following. It was the fact that their people were so nice, that they treated me so well, that they were there to serve.

So serving for the commercial cause is a good thing.

But serving for the cause of the community, for the cause of a nation, for the cause of society … well, there’s nothing that matches that.

Last weekend I had the priveledge of being led by a young 22-year-old named Aisha at a public service event in Boston. It was City Year’s annual Boston Serve-a-thon … one day where literally thousands of volunteers fanned out across the city to clean up parks, refurbish day care facilities, rehabilitate shelters. I was part of a group of 200+ from Omnicom. And I was proud of my company’s contribution.

But I was absolutely blown away by Aisha and her City Year twenty-something compatriots. They believed in changing the world through service. They worked hard. They loved nothing more than giving back to the community. They had an earnest passion that you could feel. It gave you goose bumps.

Check out Jess’ story from City Year Philadelphia.

These kids were realists AND optimists. They understood that nothing comes free. And that to serve is the best way to receive. Thanks, Aisha and Jess and Lawrence and all those other twentysomethings who are dedicating one or two years of their life to service through City Year.

You are a great generation. And you will serve this country well. And we’ll all be better off for it.

You give us hope.

Pretending you Care

After a particularly chaotic morning that involved a contractor, cleaners, a broken air conditioning system (that, on the first day of a 3-day heat wave in Northern Virginia), three client calls, one canceled appointment, two pots of coffee, all accompanied by a neurotic dog … I head to the airport.

Again.

I’m in the “preferred” TSA line a Dulles — a small benefit from my peripatetic life —  and about to go through the standard exercise of placing shoes, jacket, 1 quart ziploc baggie, and laptop in two gray bins when a young man puts his outstretched hand facing my sternum, moves it up and down in a stopping motion and says smartly, “Sir, this line is now closed.”  I look down the hallway to a scene the conjures images of mass deportation.  “But ah …” A diplomatic protest is immediately shot down.  There is a perfunctory “I’m sorry sir”.

I think to myself:  “at least pretend that you care.”

I’m now at C20 for the United flight to Boston.  It is the start of summer which means summer storms and plane delays.  The 2:18 flight is not scheduled to depart for 3:30.  It is 3:20 and nothing is happening.  I saunter to the counter.  Despite the fact that there is absolutely no one save the desk clerk there, I have to work hard to get his attention.  “Any update?”  I ask.  Continuing his aimless gaze somewhere far away from my face, the clerk says robotically, “The flight is scheduled to depart at 3:30,” he says.  “It doesn’t look that that’s going to happen,” I say.  “That’s all I know,” he said, still not looking at me with his voice trailing off.

Again to myself:  “at least pretend that you care.”

I begin to play a game.  From flight to cab to hotel to store to working out to restaurant to coffee shop … I’m looking around and trying to observe who actually cares about what they’re doing and about the people around them.  I find — and perhaps not surprisingly — that there a lot of very disengaged, disaffected, and desensitized people out there who see to simply be going through the motions of work and human existence.

That in turn, makes those who are truly interested, empathetic, concerned, and caring all the more outstanding.  Take Cindy at a Richmond-based HVAC service.  We met over a phone that day, my having found her via the Internet Yellow Pages.  She wanted to help.  She called me sir and spent a lot of time wanting to know what worked best for me.  She made extra phone calls to keep me and my son in college up to date.  She got someone to fix the air conditioning.

Most people — at least for today — however fell into the “pretending you care” category.  There was some small talk with the cab driver.  But I could tell that he really wanted to make calls on his cell phone.  The door man and the desk clerk at the hotel had nice smiles but were hardly enthusiastic.  The waiter was efficient but I got the sense that she figured a 15% tip was a high probability absent some catastrophe.  Polite, efficient, accompanied with a smile.

I look up the definition of “care.”  The verb.

  • To be concerned or solicitous; have thought or regard
  • To be concerned or have a special preference
  • To make provision or look out for
  • To have an inclination, liking, fondness, or affection for

I am reminded that a strong brand is a caring brand.  A strong organization is a caring organization.  A strong service model is a service model that infuses itself with people who care … and care passionately.

In reviewing my day I can see that a brand that pretends to care is usually “good enough.”  I can also see the power of people who really do care about what they are doing and the people around them.  Because genuine caring is not common.

Until then, at least pretend to care. 

It can get you by.

Getting smaller (and small minded?)

Fifty years ago one of the most popular magazines was named “Life.” The title alone suggested a society that looked broad and wide. Life as we knew it then was crowded, full, expansive, exhilarating.

A companion magazine to Life was “Time.” Time. Now there’s a title. Einstein himself could not have asked for a title more expansive or endless than that. Time puts us within the arc of history. It provides a context to what was, is, and will be.

Then in the 80s and 90s came a new publication.  A publication interestingly enough that was born out of “Time” magazine.  The magazine was “People.”  Apparently the publishers of “Time” found out that the most popular page in “Time” was the “People” page.  So they turned the “People” page into its own magazine.

People.  No longer was it all about the globe, the society, the trends, the ideas, the community.  No, It was the individuals, the celebrities, the rich and famous.  And if you weren’t a legitimate celebrity you could become one through a accidents (like falling down a well) that made you a celebrity for a day (or, in this case, an issue).  Your world got smaller.  It was a world not of history, movements, and ideology … it was a world of paparazzi, gawkers, show boats, egos, and pretty people that were “larger than life.”  People.  Larger than Life indeed.

I guess it was inevitable then that we ended up with this … one of the more popular magazines today … “Self.”  That’s right.  Self.  The publishers shamefully dropped the “ish” but they might just as well have kept it in the title.  It probably would have improved sales.

So we went from Life to People to … me!  Just me.  With an exclamation point.

From looking out and looking around to looking inward; from looking at our world to looking in the mirror.  It is no longer about life.  It is all about me.  From gazing at the globe to gazing at our navel.

Then came new media.

First we had the world wide web.  Now there is an expansive label. It is world wide.  I’m talking global, ubiquitous, all-inclusive all encompassing.  It casts a wide shadow.  It kindles up religious ideas of an omnipresent force.

But the world was too much to handle.  So we came up with personal web logs or blogs.   Blogs like this one. And blogs like this one are all about a platform for me to share, rant, converse, have fun.  Anybody and everybody can play.  But I’m carving out my own little community and conversation.  Indeed, I don’t want the world’s approbation.  Just my own little band of Juice Bar junkies.

Finally there was Twitter.  This is hardly a conversation.  It is digital voyeurism.  We lose the narrative.  There is no story.  There is no context save a reference point in time and place.  Indeed, there barely is thought.  Just reactions, impulses and one-liners.  A series of not-so-random images, reactions, and data points.

Help!

I’m communications and I’m melting.  I’m getting narrower, tinier, smaller.

I used to have a conversation.

Then I shouted out into the ether seeing who’d listen.

Now …

Tweet. Tweet.

Where’d all the Juice Go?

Those of you who are bellying up to the Juice Bar may have noticed that (a) the posts are fewer and more infrequent; and (b) all the historic posts along with much of the blogroll went somewhere.

Remember a month or so ago when I said that I’d gotten infected with malware?

Well, I found out that the damage was far greater than thought.  Sort like a home inspector that comes back and says your house has termites.

The malware was everywhere.  Must have been some form of malware HTML napalm.  We (that is, my colleague Ryan) tried cleaning it up.  But we found that virtually every post was tainted love.

So now I’m going throught the pain-in-the ass process of hand cleaning each post and republishing them.

Nothing but a huge time suck.

So here’s my idea.  If we have to have a Patriot Act, let’s get someone to insert a provision that the Bush Administration use these intrusive and clandestine powers to identify and track down spammers and purveyors of malware.

And that once found we send them to Guantanamo.

Or Sadr City.

Or Burma.

Why Economics Remains a Dismal Science

It has been awhile. I’ve been on “vacation”. A Dutch / American reunion of sorts.

But now I’m back and on the road again which means I read USAToday.

I find the USAToday puzzles page (last inside pages of the Life Section) ideal for take offs and landings since they don’t have an on or off switch. That is, the flight attendants aren’t pestering me about turning off the games on my BlackBerry … and USAToday has puzzles that I can actually do (as opposed to the impossible and oftentimes insipid crosswords by Will Short in the NYTimes).

So as I pulled out Tuesday’s USAToday on a flight home from Boston my eyes rested on a feature story on billionaire George Soros and the promotion of his book. Seems that George is hawking something called “reflexivity.” The relevant summary of Soros’ theory of reflexivity from the USAToday piece goes something like this …

Classic free market theory holds that everyone in an economy acts rationally, based on complete information while seeking to maximize their individual welfare or profits … To Soros, the conventional approach is rubbish. Instead of a world of near-identical actors, coolly assessing their economic interests and acting with clear-eyed precision, he sees a world (and markets) governed by passion, bias and self-reinforcing errors. Because fallible human beings are both involved in, and trying to make sense of, this world, they inevitably make mistakes. … Standard economic theory is flawed, Soros says, because it treats markets populated by thinking human beings as if they operated according to the natural laws that govern atoms and molecules.

Not surprisingly, those economists entrenched in classic rational economic theory don’t view kindly on reflexivity. According to USAToday’s David Lynch:

Critics of reflexivity, especially among the economists Soros disparages, have been brutal. A reviewer of one of his earlier books savaged his “windy amateur philosophy” and attacked him for being unfamiliar with basic economics … “It is difficult to conceive of a more mistaken understanding of the profession’s research in the last 10-15 years. … The great danger of the (earlier) book is that non-economists will take seriously his ill-founded criticism of economic research,” wrote economist Christopher Neely of the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis.

The Juice Bar has devoted several posts to the very obvious observation that people — including me — are NOT rational. The most recent was back in February coinciding with the release of Dan Airley’s book, Predictably Irrational.

So I’m naturally inclined to be open to this “ill-founded” reflexivity theory since it appears to track with reality over theory.

Then I think to myself …

Soros has made billions of dollars using his reflexivity theory … Neely oversees billions of dollars using his rational choice economic model.  Soros is so wealthy he can’t give his money away fast enough.  The U.S. economy has lurched from crisis to crisis with the dollar in the tank and skyrocketing debt.

Who ya gonna believe?

Not surprisingly, if I had to choose on who I’d want managing my money, I think I’ll go with Soros over Governor Neely of the Federal Reserve.  That is, I’ll go with someone who recognizes that people are emotional, non-linear, and, yes, irrational beings.

And this is why economics remains a dismal science.  Because it continues to refuse to accept the emotional and wacky things that make us all human.

Now … on to the sudoku page.