Pow! Right Between The Eyes! Andy Nulman's Blog About Surprise

What I Learned This Week--Why We Need a 365-Day Hallowe'en

Although this may make me come off as a spoil-sport and (I love this term) a party-pooper, I have a confession to make:

I'm not a "Hallowe'en Guy."  

Never was. Never got off on being costumed. Even as a kid being peer-pressured into trick-or-treating, I donned the most minimal of appearance-changing accessories as a perfunctory disguise.

When I reveal this little-known personal factoid to others, the usual reaction sounds something like: 

"Well how can that be, given how wildly you dress every day?"

And that's just the point.

My everyday wardrobe explodes with color and/or walks the boundaries of what's new (even my Wikipedia entry mentions my "eccentric attire" in its first sentence).  Top it all off with about five pounds of jewelry (earring, neck chains, five bracelets, at least three rings and a heavy watch), and my sartorial presence speaks volumes.  A costume seems so anti-climatic.

In fact, a couple of weeks ago, I was part of a live, one-on-one interview series headed by McGill Marketing professor Karl Moore at a Homecoming event.  During our session, he asked me:

"We're about the same age.  How come you're so much cooler than me?"

I looked at Karl, his personality sucked up into a black hole of business suit and tie.

"I guess it's the stuff I wear," I laughed, as I shook my right wrist with a clank. Given the audience, I had "dressed down conservatively" that day in a purple cashmere sweater and vintage Levis. 

"Oh, I could never wear that," Karl said.

To which I replied, not just to him, but to the entire audience watching us:

"When was the last time you tried?  I suspect 'never'."

I was right.

Now I didn't ask him, but I strongly suppose that Karl had no problem getting into vampire garb or pimp costume or what have you for any of the parties he was invited to over the weekend.  Same thing for the multiple dozens of disguised people I saw walking down Sherbrooke Street Friday and Saturday during my late-night dog walks.

Well, THAT's the real point.

Hallowe'en gives people

a "License to be Different"

The Hallowe'en License makes it okay to stand out, to go wild, to shock, to make people laugh or gasp. 

Problem is...it only happens once a year.

Which is why the "holiday" is no big deal for me.  What has made me "me," what has allowed me to succeed greatly, and also, to be frank, what has allowed me to fail spectacularly, is the fact that I have taken Hallowe'en's two-or-three-day "License to be Different" and converted it into a lifetime membership.

Let me take this post into the homestretch with a little anecdote from my childhood.

Like many others I suppose, I once asked my mother, "Mom, there's Mother's Day and Father's Day...how come there's no Children's Day?"

She smiled warmly and answered, "Every day is Children's Day!"

So what did I learn this week?  

For the world to progress, for people to be more fulfilled, for the benefit of our economy and our spirit, and for the enjoyment of us all...EVERY DAY should be Hallowe'en.

There's nothing stopping you, especially when you are your own license bureau. 

What I Learned This Week--Real-Speaking Guiding Principles

It was a very fulfilling way to cap a very busy week: watching CBC's George Stroumboulopoulous interview Cirque du Soleil's Guy Laliberte, American Apparel's Dov Charney and Aldo Shoes' eponymous leader Aldo Bensadoun about the importance of corporate social responsibility.  

This high-octane panel discussion--one that would headline the type of business conference that rolls into town and charge about $1,000 or so a head to attend--was the fitting culmination of a 10-day celebration that marked the shoe retailer's 40th Anniversary.

A special event for a special man, because when anyone ever mentions Aldo, they talk about his goodness first and his success second. In fact, in a newspaper article about him earlier in the week, Aldo outlined his three business principles:

• Love
• Respect
• Integrity

Jeez, is this any way to run a global corporation?

I suppose so, given Aldo's 1600 stores gross close to $2 billion every year.

As a corporate mission statement, Aldo's three little words may be somewhat idealistic, but at least the message is clear...particularly when compared to the usual dreary, cliché-filled, jargon-overflowing bullshit that impresses nobody and is remembered by even fewer. 

Ah, the principles/mission/vision statement. It's one of the great business lies. Most people I know roll their eyes at best, gag at worst, at the first mention of their company's version. And if one is that cynical from the get-go, things ain't gonna get much better moving forward.  

Aldo may not give his employees a mouthful, or Wall Street the standard operational verbiage they expect, but what he does provide is something to believe in. And something to live by.

What made this even more fulfilling was that at Just For Laughs, we are in the process of doing the same thing.  In other words, we're trying to distill not merely what we stand for, but what we're aiming for...and doing so in the most precise, real-speak, easy to buy into and easy to follow doctrine.  I'm kind of sick of the "We want to be a global leader in..." diatribe that I encountered ad nauseum in the tech biz and still see to this day in annual reports of companies across the entire spectrum of business.

At Just For Laughs, we have locked down the following 11 words over three principles.  They apply to everything we do, whether its an international TV show, a pitch document for a sponsor, an ad campaign, a major new event in someplace far away, or the mere press release announcing said major new event.

• Don't be boring
• Must be great
• Gotta be proud of it

Even though I was remiss starting the principles off with a negative, the difference between "Don't Be Boring" and "Be Exciting" is subtle, but important.  People have different definitions of "excitement," but I feel that boredom rears its ugly head more thoroughly, hence my choice of instructional words.

As for the other two, being un-boring is not enough.  Every action or product must skim the outer reaches of unbelievable.  And in the end, if you're not willing to show it off and shout it from the rooftops, well it's probably not all that great and not worth doing in the first place.

When I first showed this around (which I thought both great and un-boring), one of the questions that popped up immediately was "Yeah, but what about profit?"

Believe me I know, profit is corporate oxygen.  But as I explained:

"You make sure everything you do ain't boring, that it's great and that you're proud of it, and trust me, the profit will come in tidal waves."

So will Just For Laughs ever be as big as Aldo?  Who knows?  What's more important though is that we at least borrow from the best.  These real-speak principles are one of my first steps.

So what did I learn this week?

Business or person, you've got to stand for something.  And the clearer you make what it is you do, the easier it will be to lead others to do the same with you and for you.

Speaking real is the first step in being real.

And, I suspect, in being really profitable, too.

What I Learned This Week--The (VERY!) Giant Screen

Strange phenomenon.

I was recently invited to the launch of the second annual C2-MTL Conference, an event put on by the ballsy ad agency Sid Lee in conjunction with Fast Company magazine.  At it, live on stage, a personable and glib host interviewed organizers, presented government officials and introduced the conference's speakers line-up (including luminaries like designer Phillipe Starck, model/entrepreneur Elle McPherson, Blake Mycoskie of TOMS shoes shoes and, although my light may be of lesser lumens, even yours truly!).

Given the bleeding edge guest list of techies, hipsters and marketing types assembled, aided by the liberal passing of quite passable wine, the assembly was rather--shall we say--animated, making the launch's host compete (well, sometimes fight) for their attention.

THAT wasn't the strange phenomenon.

What WAS, was how the chit-chatter of the gathering uniformly and instantly quieted down when the host turned to interview people not at the event itself, but elsewhere via webcam on a giant screen.

In a very general observational nutshell, the behavior was:

• Dismiss the Live
• Worship the Screen

This may be one extreme example, but its a trend I find fascinating...and expanding.  Given the fact that our eyes spend more time glued to screens than ever before (what used to be just TV has now mutated into desktop, laptop, tablet and mobile), the respect given to them versus the actual source material is puzzling...if not disturbing.

Think I'm exaggerating?  Go to a concert or a sporting event, and watch the watchers.  Check the angle of their eye-lines.  If they're not too busy fixated on their phones taking pictures or video (another, previously ranted, beef of mine), they're watching the hi-res, internal broadcast of the event on giant screens above rather than the event itself below. 

If this were the only fallout of pixilation fixation, so be it. 

But frankly, the way people are watching live content is influencing the way live content is being produced.  I remember running into a videogame executive at the NHL All-Star Game a few years ago who told me that TV producers are trying to replicate videogames in the way they present live sporting events. In other words, they were trying to make the football TV broadcast look more like the Madden game, the hockey one more like NHL20-whatever. 

More recently, at TV meetings for Just For Laughs just last month, network programming execs asked for shows that were conceived "mobile-first."  And given Google's foray into eyeglasses, ones that morph the magnifying lenses into literal in-your-face broadcast screens, things are only gonna get crazier.

Let's face the facts; this ain't a calamity, but merely another step along the evolutionary scale of technology and human behavior. 

But as a content maker and deliverer, it has important ramifications for me.

So the lesson this week?  Maybe "Phoning It In," the derogatory term for a lazy performance, is taking on new, more positive meaning. 

Perhaps the next time I have to present something live, I'll do so via a giant screen from somewhere else...even if it's simply behind the screen itself.

---------------------

P.S. Here's a look at what C2-MTL is all about.  Hope you can see me there live-ish ;)

 

What I Learned This Week: Me Finding You

Ahh, the life's lessons I learn!  Some are profound, some are arcane, and some are practical.  This week's is most definitely the latter...and may save you a helluva lot of hassle.

So last week, leaving work at about 6:45, I found a wallet outside my office.  It belonged to a freshman McGill University faculty of science student. 

No cash inside--either by design or prior act of larceny--but a bunch of receipts, a student ID and residence entry swipe card, bank/debit card and most importantly, attached by a thick metal ring, a set of house/apartment keys.

What was missing was any fast and easy way to contact this person.

Now maybe I'm old school, but me separated from this kind of stuff sets me into panic mode, so I assumed it for this person and took it upon myself to find a way to contact her.

What was supposed to be a relaxing supper and work session at home was thrown askew by me trying to track this person via Facebook (she's probably still wondering who this stranger is trying to befriend her) and then by phone.  I called the number on the residence card, but it led to a voicemail and rebound instructions to a website.  I went to said website and left an email at the "info@" address.

Knowing that neither would be attended to until the morning, I clicked over to the List of Residences on the McGill site and picked one at random.  Obviously, they couldn't tell me whether this student lived there, but after checking to confirm that she didn't, they gave me another number to call, McGill Central Security.

Doing all this while eating, I dialed Central Security who suggested I drop the wallet by their offices, which was only about 10 blocks away on the same street where I lived, but there was only so far I was going to go with the immediate dinner interruption I explained.

"No problem," the woman said. "Just drop it by tomorrow."

"But I have her keys."

"Well, you can also drop it by the nearest police station.  They have better ways of tracking this person down."

Great.  So now, two-and-a-half-hours after I'd found it, this cursed wallet had become some sort of millstone around my neck.  

I cajoled the Security person to do some of her own research, take my number in case they find the wallet's owner, and call me if there is any success.

At 11:11 p.m., the wallet's owner texted.

"Hey.  I heard u found my keys n ID.  

Thank u!  Where could I get them back?"

I called the number on the text, and spoke to someone who was surprisingly less concerned with the matter than I was.  End result is that I left the wallet with my building's doorman, and I think it has been picked up.

Not that I mind terribly, and I know it adds to my karmic account, but I spent the good part of four hours trying to track down someone who lost her wallet. Her problem became mine.  I'm sure there are others that would've said "Screw it," and tossed the wallet back on the street for someone else to deal with.

So here's the lesson.  

Emblazon anything you value

with an easy way

to contact you

I have my email and phone number on the back of my iPad, my iPhone and inside my written journal.  I have at least one business card in my wallet, my briefcase, in the pockets of favorite jackets and coats, and inside and outside every piece of luggage when I travel.  My dogs are tagged.  There's even a little sticker inside high-end umbrellas.

Yeah, maybe I'm anal-retentive about it.  But at least I'm not a burden on someone else if MY stuff gets lost.

Identify all your important stuff.  (Or as they say in the Tom Peters-ian marketing world, "Establish your personal brand.")

Make life easy for you.  

AND for someone who may become inadvertently connected to you.

It may be the difference between found...or lost.

What I Learned This Week: The Secret Ingredient (!!!)

Note:  This is a VERY Jewishy post.  Racists and anti-semites may want to skip over to their next favorite blog ;)

Last week marked Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, the most solemn and important day of prayer for Jews the world over.  Combined with two days of Rosh Hashana--the Jewish New Year the week before--the pair make up the "High Holidays," a period that draws Jews to synagogue like no other time of the year.

For the uninitiated, services for the High Holidays are long, and it can get hot and somewhat uncomfortable jammed in a room next to hundreds--or in the case of my synagogue, thousands--of others for hours on end.  Because of this, unless one is ultra-religious, the majority of those attending seem to arrive late-ish and leave early-ish.

So imagine my surprise when looking around the hall at the termination of services this year and seeing it STILL about 80% full. Not one time, but on all four major High Holiday days (two Rosh Hashana, two Yom Kippur).

Wasn't like that last year. 

Or the two, three years before.

The difference?

The Cantor...or more specifically, the Cantor's demeanor. (P.S. For all you non-Jews or non-practicing Jews out there, the Cantor is the member of clergy who leads the congregation in sung prayer).

Over the past few years, my synagogue employed a cantor who had a fine and capable voice, and was competent in his role.  Did the job, nothing special.

This year, the role was filled by an Israeli named Boaz Davidoff, perhaps one of the finest, friendliest and most upbeat personalities I ever met.  Yes, he too had a fine and capable voice; the difference was in the way he used it.

Boaz didn't just sing, he beamed and radiated as he did so.  He gesticulated, undulated, and moved his body to the beat of the music.  He didn't just use his vocal chords, but also his hands and his head to deliver his songs.  And when he sang, as he put it, he wasn't just playing to he crowd, but communicating one-on-one with the big man upstairs.

The end result of all this palpable enthusiasm?  Well, the choir, buoyed by Boaz below, bellowed with new fervor.  This, in turn, made the rabbi visibly happier, which translated into a refreshed energy, enabling him to better relate to his congregants. This double-whammy made the services fly by quicker, and judging by the increased amount of those who stayed until the very end, made the entire event more enjoyable to all.

So the (very spiritual) lesson this week?

The secret ingredient

to success in any field

is showing enthusiasm.

It's intangible, but makes a marked difference in those whose souls it touches.

It can be read, but the true benefit is in how it is felt.

I remember a lengthy stretch of coming into the office in a foul mood.  After a few weeks, one of my staff came to me and told me that even though I was basically sequestered in my office, the bad vibes were being felt by--and adversely affecting--the team.  That's the viral power of one's mood.  And over the years, I've come to find that the positive uplifts even stronger than the negative bums people out.

So whether you're leading a congregation, selling shoes, driving a bus or giving a medical prognosis, doing so with an increased degree of enthusiasm will positively affect those you are doing it for. 

Best of all, it's infectious and inspires a snowball effect in its feedback loop, paying off big-time to the one doing the enthusing...namely you.