More power to me

There are a lot of powers I'd like to have.

I'd like to be able to fly like Superman. It'd get me where I need to go a lot faster, I wouldn't have to deal with those pesky TSA people, and I look absolutely fabulous in a cape.

Or so I've been told.

Invisibility would also be a good one, being able to move through the world unnoticed (of course I could accomplish the same thing by having a show on NBC), slipping into places unseen by anyone. This is definitely a power I would've put to much better use in high school. Now I think I'd use it mostly to get around taking out the trash and unloading the dishwasher. "Where's dad? He was here a minute ago."

Telekinesis is a favorite. I'd love to be able to have a driver flip me off on the freeway, then be able to flip them off the road by sending their car over the side rail just by thinking about it. Seems fair.

Sadly, I don't have any of those powers. The one I will have shortly is one I hope I never have to use. Power of attorney over my son's health and affairs.

As you might know, young Mr. Spielberg is going to one of the finest film schools in the country. That's the good news. The bad news, besides the tuition, is it's not in the same state as I am. So just like my weight, taxes and where my next gig is coming from, I file this power under things I don't want to think about but have to.

My boy will be a two and a half hour flight away, and that's provided the planes are leaving when I need to go. God forbid if something should happen where he's unable to make decisions for himself, either myself or my wife are going to have to make them for him. No parent ever wants to think about this. But the only thing worse than it actually occurring is not being able to do anything about it. I asked him to grant my wife and I power of attorney, and he'll have to sign documents giving it to us. As I was stumbling around trying to explain it to him, he took the opportunity to explain it to me: "It's like a fire extinguisher. You never want to use it, but it's good to have around if you need it."

Clearly he's already much more mature than I ever was at his age. Or even my age.

I'm taking this as a learning opportunity for both of us. I get to teach him to read this document - all documents - carefully before he signs them. He gets to teach me he's a capable, grown man - something I sometimes have trouble remembering (and realizing).

I finally understand why parents treat you as kids no matter how old you get. He's always going to be my baby boy no matter what state he's in or how old he is.

The other thing the wife and I are forced to consider is that plane ride I was talking about. If events were moving fast, there's the very real possibility we wouldn't be able to reach him before decisions needed to get made.

Fortunately, I have a great friend named Cameron who lives in the city where he'll be. He's graciously offered to be my son's boots on the ground while we're not there, and not just for emergency situations but for homecooked meals, advice and anything else he needs as well. Cameron's included in the legal document as the alternate after the wife and I, so there won't be any question about his authority should it ever come to that. I'll never be able to convey how much of a relief it is knowing he's there for my son, or how thankful the wife and I are.

So tomorrow morning, we sit down with our lawyer and he'll sign the papers. And I'll try not to think about what they actually mean.

I guess that is one more power I have. The power of denial.

Well-placed blame

My good friend Michelle Purcell once said you can never underestimate the power of well-placed blame. As usual, she was right.

Clearly this is something all ad agencies, or marketing communication collectives, or integrated media-agnostic think tanks, or whatever the hell they're calling themselves this week have a deep understanding of.

At agencies, blame gets passed around faster than a Kennedy driving to the liquor store at closing time.

Or to paraphrase Groucho's "whatever it is I'm against it", the internal battle cry is "whatever it is, I didn't do it."

The reason is pretty obvious. If you've ever been fired from an agency, all it means is that you showed up. But agencies, especially the ones owned by holding companies (is there any other kind?), run on fear and no one likes getting fired, especially for a mistake they made.

Like underestimating the client's budget by $12 million.

Scheduling a shoot on a Vancouver beach in winter.

Telling the client you can get it done without checking with anybody if what they're asking for can be done. Then not getting it done.

Rather than man up and face the music, walk into an agency and you'll see so much finger pointing it looks like a master class in giving directions. Ironically for a business that believes consumers have to have an emotional attachment to their product, many of the players have no personal attachment to their decisions or actions. At least if they backfire.

However if they succeed, then the ground shifts from the blame game to the taking credit game. That's the one where anyone who was in the building and passed a meeting in the conference room where they were presenting a successful campaign takes credit for it.

Agencies don't have a monopoly on either behavior. Anytime you have an office with the kind of politics, ego and ambition found in agencies, the same primal survival instincts kick in.

I don't mean to paint in broad strokes - this is not to say you can't find responsible people with a finely honed sense of integrity, grit, decency and honor in agencies. You can.

But if you can't, don't blame me.