Archives for category: Communication

Sometimes you just need a gentle push from people to get you outside of your comfort zone so that you can improve.

I remember when I learned to swim at the grand old age of 11. It was in an old pool in my home town of Stafford, England, in a centre which is long gone, as is the centre that replaced it. That’s how long ago it was, but I remember the lesson.

I was not long out of the Popeye-like arm flotation devices, but still the 15-yard swim was eluding my ‘doggy paddle’ and my red badge – the most preliminary of swim badges – was still not adorning my trunks. I’d gotten close a couple of times that evening, and some of the older lads and the instructors were willing me to make the length. The truth is, I’d bottled it and put my feet down a metre or from the shallow end.

‘Right,’ said the instructor, ‘this time, you’re going to start from the shallow end and finish at the deep end.’ Gulp! I was very anxious indeed, but knew I wouldn’t be left to flounder and that this time I had to make it. I did, to the delight of everyone. A right of passage negotiated, but it wouldn’t have happened without a mentor pushing me .

This for me is a useful reminder that we need the people we trust to push us, to get the most out of us. Conversely, this means that we as mentors and people in whom other people place their trust, need to push them as well – customers, partners and colleagues – if we truly have their interest at heart.

I had occasion, dear reader, to travel to the Irish city of Cork from the Irish city of Galway the other day. From the provinces of Connacht to Munster. I was driving, as I don’t think you can even complete the journey on public transport, without massive detours.

My first time living in Ireland was the late 1990’s.  Although the celtic tiger had been leaping into first place within Europe’s fastest growing countries for a few years, it was still benefitting from the lag effect of massive EU infrastructure funding. Not a moment too soon either. Back then, the roads were very poor and train travel was very slow, with large parts of the rail network being single track.

I theorised at the time that this didn’t matter. You see, the web was gathering such pace that it would permeate all sections of Irish business and life and I figured the need to travel physically to and from places would be greatly reduced. The country could make jump from third world infrastructure to first world economic powerhouse with an Internet-enabled quantum leap.

Well, it didn’t quite happen like that. Which brings us to 2014. Dublin is possibly the only European capital city with no rail service to its airport. There’s no motorway connecting Galway, the fourth largest city, to Limerick, the third largest. Worse still, there’s no motorway connecting the third largest to Cork, number two on the list. Hence my rather lengthy journey from number four to number two via number three. And back.

On the rail side, it’s still largely single track which causes scheduling and punctuality challenges as the only places the trains can cross are at at stations. All tracks lead to Dublin, but travelling between the other cities on the train doesn’t really happen. Oh, and in the country you get railway crossings manned by humans.  Yes, that’s right, someone is paid rather well to close and open gates every half hour or so. I think that’s what they call a sinecure – or ‘doss job’ as we would say in England.

You see, greater Dublin accounts for half of the country’s population and its road and network systems are pretty good. Everything else is the country, literally.

Then there’s the virtual infrastructure, otherwise known as Internet bandwidth.  It’s not too bad in the seething metropolis and other city areas.  Out here, as I write my rural idyll, where the local switches have not been updated, it’s about 7MB and 1:48 contention. So I’m sharing some paper and string with up to 47 others.

All this contributes to the paradox that is Ireland, as I touched on in a previous post. Forging ahead in some areas and well behind the curve, with seemingly no chance or intention of catching up, in others.

 

There is a rather pleasing poem by Jenny Joseph called ‘When I Am Old’. You can read it here in Paul Coelho’s blog, who I gather is quite famous, with marginally more followers than me.

It’s a well observed series of things that you do when you start to attain the status known as ‘old’.  Here are the first half dozen lines to whet your appetite:

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE


With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves


And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.


I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired


And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

I had one of those when I am old moments the other day. I was born with great eyesight, but as you get older your reading focal point gradually extends beyond your arms with the result that you can’t reach your laptop or your book and you need reading glasses.

I needed to paint our utility room after having some major work done in there. I couldn’t paint the skirting boards without using my reading glasses. It kind of takes the productivity and creativity out of an endeavour when you can’t see what you’re doing and you have to plonk the old ‘pince nez’ on. OK, strictly speaking my specs aren’t a pince nez, but I couldn’t resist throwing a French tag in there.

WHEN I AM  OLD I SHALL EAT MEALS WITH MY READING GLASSES ON

And look at you over them like a crusty college professor …

 

 

 

Why do people blog? There must be a myriad reasons. When someone likes a post of mine I check out their profile, and a lot of them are travelling the world and chasing the dream, using their blog as a way of communicating with peple, recording their activities, or even raising money for their lifestyle by advertising their lifestyle. Blog your way around the world! Make money blogging to fund your travel ! That kind of thing.

Here are four reasons why I blog:

– I enjoy writing

– It gives me the discipline of having to create content regularly and to deadlines

– I like the format and the 2-way, web 2.0 nature of the medium. Everyone needs a little dialogue in their life

– It gives me the platform from which to put my slant on the world as I see it, how I think it works, and how I think it could be improved

I hope you get something out of it. If you don’t, then I guess you won’t tune in. Quite right too. Your time is precious.

I had occasion, dear reader, to go to France and Italy a few weekends ago. It was a bit of a road trip – with some planes and trains thrown in for good measure – and one of the earlier legs was the Eurotunnel from Folkstone to Calais. I’ve been on the Eurostar from London to Paris, but never the car-train thingy.

I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t booked the tickets as it was a surprise held in my dubious honour, so I hadn’t gone onto the website to see what it was all about. I was going in cold, which is always interesting from a marketeer’s perspective. It is always incredibly valuable to experience the customer journey through your product or service for the first time, because once you’ve got your feet under the table and you know where to look, what to do and what to expect, you can’t help first-time visitors navigate big idea any more.

I was expecting something like a cross between the car ferry and the Eurostar. Drive on, dump the car, chill for a couple hours, drive off. So, imagine my surprise when we drove onto a ‘carriage’ that houses about 3 or 4 cars and sat there. You can either sit in your car and feel mildly seasick as the train speeds through the tunnel, or you can get out of your car and walk up and down the side. There’s an emergency loo, but no cafeteria, no entertainment, no view, nothing.

I examined the inside of the carriage. There were lots of emergency notices and information about what you can’t do. What I didn’t know was that the journey is only 35 minutes long and there’s not much you can do.

One thing that struck me was that there was nothing to manage expectations for the first time traveller. You have to find stuff out for yourself, when it’s too late.

How hard would it be to produce a 3-minute video that runs in the terminal and the carriages to give you more information on the customer experience? It would put you at ease, enhance the experience and make you spend more money in the terminal, knowing that you would be without food and drink for the best part of an hour.

I’m not saying Le Shuttle is Le Shittle, far from it. It’s a massive investment and a huge time and money saver. It’s no nonsense, not quite ‘quick and dirty’ but certainly at the functional end of travel. What I am saying is that they need to work on the customer experience. And, when they do, everybody wins.

A while back I wrote a post on how a sound can instantly bring you back to a time gone by. It can evoke a feeling in much the same way as a distinctive smell can.

The other day, I was watching the Champions League footie on the television and they were having some sound issues. The noise cancelling function of the commentators mike wasn’t working, so it was picking up crowd white noise as well.

The weird thing was this: it sounded just like the football commentaries of world cup games in the 60’s and 70’s. I was spirited back to a time of David Coleman or Kenneth Wolstenholme and those legendary voices that sounded slightly dislocated, strangled almost.

I guess that’s why music is so good at evoking a feeling or a certain period in our lives. It makes ‘guess the year’ on the radio so much more penetrable.

We’re used to hearing music on marketing videos. Perhaps it is the next great ploy to be exploited via the browser and web sites…

Even though I live in the Republic of Ireland, my browser home page is always set to the BBC. It really is a very good website indeed. The broadcasting institution has undergone quite a few changes of late, but if you’re British it’s an inescapable and vital part of your life.

Here are 7 reasons why the BBC rocks:

– No ads.  Even though I’m in marketing, I love watching television on the BBC because you’re guaranteed uninterrupted coverage and no falsely imposed breaks of flow or thought.  You get ads on the BBC website if you view it from overseas, but who cares? That’s routine behaviour on the web

– Great value for money with the license fee. The quality of programming is still peerless. In Ireland you pay a similar license fee – and you still get ads. With Sky you pay a monthly subscription – quite a high one – and amazingly you still get ads, which I would find infuriating and a bit of a con

– Accessible to people in Ireland under a range of subscription arrangements, so us expats don’t have to go without

– Fantastic music montages. No-one caps off a televised event with a montage as good as the BBC’s

– Still the best documentaries around.  History, music, you name it

– Superb natural history content. OK, so I’m biased here and my brother does work in this area, but it’s still superb

– Flawless sports coverage and camera work. Think 6 Nations, the British Open, Wimbers…

They’re not perfect, but my they’re pretty close to it.

I do have a gripe that on the website you can’t see certain sporting footage because of licensing arrangements and you get the ‘UK viewers only’ message, but it’s a small gripe.

The phrase ‘thanks to the unique way the BBC is funded’ is sometimes used as a stick to beat the Beeb with. Not by me. We don’t know how lucky we are.

One of the several things that I really like about where I live is that people say hello to you in the street. People you don’t know. Strangers.

I live in a small town – it would be considered a village in my native country – in the west of Ireland. It’s quite normal to say hello, smile, nod or exchange a view on the weather with people you don’t know a few times during a walk through the town. I really like it.

People are familiar with the friendly welcome of the Irish – cead mile failte, or a hundred thousand welcomes and all that – but I suspect you get this level of friendliness in all small places.

You don’t get this in a big city, at least in not a single one I’ve ever been to, and I’ve probably only been to a couple hundred in my life. People don’t make eye contact, their body language is self-protecting, they avoid making any kind of acknowledgement of your presence. Maybe this is because it feels like everything is transient, unsafe, or unfamiliar in a seething population, but to me it’s a pity. We’re social animals after all, and interaction with fellow humans improves our mood, most of the time.

Next time you’re out and about in a city, try saying hello to a couple of passers-by. Better still, when you’re in a city with an underground system, strike up a conversation with someone across from you, across the central walkway I call ‘the well of souls’. The looks you get can be hilarious:

‘What are you doing, talking to me? You’re breaking the code!”

‘What code?’

‘The unwritten code of the city. No talking to anyone you don’t know. Loser!’

Give me the kindness of strangers in small places any time.

Have you ever been in a company, institution or building and you hear a phone just ringing out? No answer machine, no voicemail system to let them know you called and to ask them to call you back?

That’s because they don’t want you to be able to put the ball back in their court. You’re the customer but they don’t care about you.

My favourite places for this to happen are public sector organisations, local government offices, state and semi-state institutions. They don’t understand customers, they don’t acknowledge you as a customer. You’re not a priority to them; they are a priority to them. They are part of the bloated state administration system and they wouldn’t last five minutes in the private sector.

This is the equation: Your call is not important to us + we don’t care about you = your call rings out.

Your solution: bypass them. Find another way to get what you need to get done.

The full stop, preferable to a comma according to the good folks from Coldplay, is also called a period by our US friends.  Period has never really caught on as a term in the British-English speaking world, perhaps due to its association with what the older generation called ‘women’s things.’

On the surface, a full stop is a pretty easy concept.  You use it to finish a clause or a series of clauses and give the reader chance to pause for longer than they might at a comma. When you’re writing for business, though, sometimes it’s tough to know when you really should use a full stop, especially when you have bullet points or indented paragraphs. Super formal documents, like those produced by Her Majesty’s Civil Service, are very formal:

– they have a comma at the end of each bullet,

– until they get to the last bullet,

– and then they finish it with a full stop.

My own preference is not to use anything at the end of bulleted text, even at the end of the last bullet:

– it looks neater

– it’s also easier for me.  Even if it’s a longer bullet with a couple of sentences in, I still don’t put a stop at the end of the bullet

– it allows me to use this convention both for short bullet comments and longer indented paragraphs

Whatever you decide, make sure you consistently apply the convention through your document.

In the normal parts of a document, of course, you should have a full stop at the end of each paragraph. It’s not a luxury you can do without, as a former colleague of mine is fond of arguing. And that former colleague knows who they are :-).