The rude of the problem

Being interrupted is right up there on my list of pet peeves, along with paper straws, napkins made from recycled material and one-ply toilet tissue.

I think it stems from the ugly-American-in-a-foreign-land practice of thinking if you just talk louder and repeat the same thing over and over, they'll understand what you're talking about. Even though they speak a different language.

Not always, but much more often than I'd like, I work in an industry that runs on equal measure of rudeness, ego, asinine comments, loud and I know better than you do.

It usually goes like this. You'll be in a conference room, either on your first or thirty-seventh meeting of the day. You have the floor and you're speaking. Without warning or reason, someone starts talking over you. Then another person joins the chorus. Pretty soon, they're not all just trying to talk over you, they're also jockeying to talk over each other.

They don't hear or care what you're saying, because, you know, what they're saying is So. Much. More. Important. It's like those drivers on the freeway who're behind you, pass you, then pull in front of you because that one car length makes All. The. Difference.

I hate those people. And I hate when it happens - in meetings, on the road and in real life.

Apparently I'm not the only one in advertising who hates this. Linda Kaplan Thaler and Robin Koval, principals at the Kaplan Thaler agency in New York, wrote a book called The Power of Nice. In it, they point out the many times being nice in business has turned potential clients into actual ones. By the way, that's not the reason they suggest being nice - it's just a side benefit.

Don't get me wrong. There are many pleasant, decent, courteous people in the business who are just as frustrated by the rudeness and bad upbringing all too frequently on display.

They're just not in my meetings.

Right turn

Despite what several people think, if I had to position myself on the political spectrum I'd say I'm a centerist Democrat. There are things that make sense to me, and instead of aligning these positions with a party affiliation, they should be labeled as "common sense."

I know, it's a quaint notion.

I come from a time of wildly liberal thought. And, in spite of the fact I closed down my junior high school for two days by organizing an anti-war protest with my friends Sandy and Mark, who belonged to the Young Socialist Alliance, and whose parents belonged to the Socialist Worker's Party, it's safe to say currently my views don't fall that far left on the spectrum.

Because they don't, they often run counter to my more liberal friends. But I think a lot of opinions - on both sides - are knee-jerk (or in the case of the right, just jerk - BAM! I'll be here all week) reactions fueled by emotion instead of reason.

The point I'm taking the long road making is while I've moved more to the center, I've noticed some of my friends have swung to the way far right. These are people I grew up with. We came from the same circumstances, environment and educational background. We all held the same positions on issues during the years we were in school together.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, they started posting things on Facebook revealing just how far right they've become in their thinking.

It's not just their opinions, which they're certainly entitled to, that disturbs me. It's their seemingly complete lack of compassion and empathy disguised as political opinion. It reflects a hardening towards less fortunate people that's as callus as it is unreasonable. Maybe they always felt this way. Maybe it's the way their parents felt. Maybe they just don't like to think. Or compromise. But the mindless vitriol that spews from them makes me mourn for their humanity. And it also makes me think maybe I never really knew them as well as I thought I did.

Despite how it sounds, I don't judge my friends on their political views. But I do judge those views. It's a fine distinction, but one nonetheless.

What I'm getting at is it just makes me sad. Sad some of my friends, some who I've known since elementary school, have become so hardened in their souls. It seems their true selves are being held captive somewhere in a deep, dark basement at Fox News, being forced to watch the insane, angry, petulant, hostile, aggressive, misinformed, manipulative ramblings of Hannity, Beck and O'Reilly 24 hours a day.

Mental waterboarding.

I'm for the death penalty. I support gay marriage. I don't believe guns should be outlawed. I believe a woman is the only one who should be making choices about her body. And I also believe in compassion for the less fortunate. This casual disregard, Fox News mentality, taking refuge behind comments like "Let 'em pull themselves up by their bootstraps." is all bullshit. You can't do it when you don't even have bootstraps.

There for the grace of God goes anyone who thinks otherwise (during the recession, I knew a lot of people who were one paycheck away from reconsidering their opinion on government assistance).

It's hard to believe Arizona once had a senator who wasn't an angry, old grandpa who traded his dignity and reputation by choosing a uniquely unqualified airhead to be his running mate. But it did. During his tenure, Barry Goldwater was referred to as Mr. Conservative. Today, because of some of the common sense views he arrived at later in life - like a woman's right to choose, accepting gays in the military (His quote was "they don't have to be straight, they just have to shoot straight") and not letting religion into politics - he's been denounced time and again by the right, with their philosophy that you have to think or behave a certain way to be a good and moral American.

If someone like Goldwater, who many consider father of the conservative movement, could eventually arrive at reasonable, common sense views on the issues, maybe my more conservative friends will too.

Drip dry

If you follow me on Facebook - and really, haven't you had enough of me by now, I know I have - you may have noticed the post I did this past Thursday when I accidentally spilled water into my laptop.

Not my proudest moment. Besides having teenagers in the house, few things will make you feel as stupid.

It wasn't a complete submersion. I was opening the screen, and either a) forgot, b) didn't notice or c) didn't care about the plastic cup of water behind it. When the screen hit it, I heard the cup tip over and immediately shifted into that slow-motion feeling you go into when you're either in a really bad accident or have done something monumentally, inexcusably stupid (that one).

It felt like hours before I lifted the laptop up to prevent any more water from getting on the bottom of it, but in reality it was probably only a second or two. Fortunately, it wasn't a direct hit.

The water spilled on my desktop, and seeped under the laptop, which I'd just turned on a moment before. I immediately wiped the bottom of the laptop off, held it upside down to let any water that may have gotten in through the cooling vents run out, and then logged in.

It fired up (poor choice of words) just swell. Everything looked fine, and I figured I'd dodged a bullet. Right up until the screen started getting these static-y lines running through it. The second I saw them, I shut down. The good news is it didn't just crap out, it actually went through shut down and turned off. So I took that as a good sign. Then I went on an agency desktop, and started reading the interwebs about laptops that get water spilled on them and what to do.

The answers ranged from get it to Apple right away, let it dry out for three days, and start praying. The most optimistic were the ones that had let it dry out.

They said if you kept the computer upside down, somewhere air could circulate around it and let it dry for at least three days, often it would turn on fine and be like nothing had happened. So, as you can see by the picture, that's what I'm doing.

I won't turn it on until Sunday afternoon, but I'm hopeful. At the very least I'm hoping it'll come on long enough for me to back everything up to Time Machine, which, coincidentally, I was going to do Thursday morning before work but I was running late. Lesson learned.

I'll let you know how it works out.

In the mean time, I'm going to be careful not to spill any more drinks. Especially the one I'm going to have if I find out I have to buy a new computer.

UPDATE: This afternoon I fired up "'Ole Sparky" and I'm extremely happy to report it's working just fine. Nothing but grateful. Of course, I'll never get that hour I spent in the Apple store yesterday back, but it's a small trade-off.

Endorse this

The first time I ever heard of LinkedIn was about ten years ago from my good friend and sometimes art director partner Imke. She told me about it right after I’d come back to my desk after having been laid off from the agency we were working at.

By the way, if you’ve never worked in advertising, all getting laid off means is you showed up one day.

Anyway, Imke explained what LinkedIn was, how it worked and suggested it was probably a good idea if I listed myself on the site. It's probably still a good idea.

But here's the thing: the site has gotten as annoying as Facebook.

I used to draw a line, a thin line but a line nonetheless, between Facebook and LinkedIn. The former was strictly for friends in the real world. The latter was solely for professional relationships and contacts. Admittedly, sometimes they overlap.

What's happened is that the difference between the two sites grows narrower by the minute.

I attribute it to the fact the gang over at LinkedIn has seen the runaway success of Facebook, and they want a taste of it. So they’re constantly revamping their site to be more like FB. Now on LinkedIn, you can post. Leave comments on posts. “Like” a post. Does this sound familiar?

But in the contest for useless features, the winner by a clear margin is the one that lets you endorse other people on your contact list.

Now, let me just say up front, I appreciate and thank everyone who’s endorsed me in all the various categories I didn’t even know I was an expert in. This includes squirrels and plumbing.

And that’s my point. What does an endorsement really mean? What is its value?

Self-esteem wise, it’s a win. I feel great when I see someone has endorsed me for something. Professionally, I just have to believe that while HR people and agency gatekeepers are looking at my LinkedIn profile, they’re not spending a whole lot of time, as my old art director Doug Morris used to say - sorting the fly shit from the pepper - looking through all the little endorsement squares to find out who, for what and why.

After all, endorsements really only mean something if you know who’s doing the endorsing and the weight it carries. Still, always nice to be recognized, even if it is mostly by friends returning the endorsing favor or asking for one.

I'd like to talk about this more, but I have to go fix a leaky pipe in the squirrel cage.

Clean thoughts

Over the holiday weekend, my son was away with a friend, starting to concept his next award-winning short film. My daughter was spending the weekend as a counselor at a camp near Big Bear.

Which meant my wife and I had the very strange and rare treat of having the house - not counting Max, world's greatest dog - all to ourselves.

If you’re married with kids, I’m sure you’ll appreciate it almost as much as we did. I don’t think I have to tell you that we proceeded to do what any long-married couple does when they finally get a little private time away from the kids.

We cleaned and organized the house.

First, we decided instead of drudgery it was going to be fun. We put on the soundtrack to the movie Chef (awesome – go to iTunes now and download it, I’ll wait) and blasted it while we were working. We decided to spend twenty minutes on the living room, and take no prisoners.

Everything was on the table, figuratively and literally speaking. Books, magazines, receipts, DVDs, papers, pillows, blankets – things that had been lying around or just left out for the last few years were either put where they belong, donated to charity or trashed. It’s amazing how much we accomplished with a focused effort and a predetermined amount of time.

Then we did the other thing long-married couples do whenever they get the chance and the kids aren't around.

We took a nap.

Off the clock

When you have a plumber over, you don't ask if they could just replace a small pipe for free before they get started.

You wouldn't ask your auto mechanic to replace a few hoses for free before he does a tune up.

Alright, so I think we've learned analogies aren't my strong suit, but here's what I'm getting at.

Why do agencies like to send freelancers the creative brief, along with all the Powerpoint presentations, research, first drafts, graphic treatments and assorted other information - some useful, most not - a day or two before the job starts and ask you to review it all before you come in?

I'll tell you why. Because it doesn't cost them anything.

I'll tell you something else. I never do it.

The fact is I'm not on the clock until I am. Don't get me wrong - I don't just do this for the money. I do it for the love. Of the money (okay, who didn't see that coming). So the night before I start a new gig, when I'm with my family, watching Breaking Bad for the fifth time, walking Max - the world's greatest dog, or whatever I'm doing, it's on my time.

You know what I'm not doing on my time? Working for free.

It's not like there's any fear of coming in unprepared or uninformed. If you've ever set foot in an agency, you know meetings are the currency and lifeblood. Everything they sent you will be reviewed, reworked, rehashed and rethought a thousand times before you put pen to paper (old school expression).

And of course, by the time you start, approximately seventeen rounds of meetings later, the assignment will look nothing like what they sent you to read in the first place.

I think my high school girlfriend put it best when she said, "I'm not just giving it away."

And while I didn't appreciate the sentiment then, I certainly do now.

Pay as you go

When it comes to credit cards, I like to know I'm at least getting a little reward for my completely undisciplined spending. That's why I have two airline affinity cards I use to help me rack up the miles.

Funny thing about credit card companies - they expect you to pay them. I know, right?

Sometimes, as any freelancer will tell you, the bills get there before the checks do. The cash flow isn't always as prompt as you'd like it to be. It's not that it's not there, it's just not there right now.

A few months ago, I managed to run up one of my cards to a healthy sum. It fact, at that point in time, it was a healthier sum than I had coming in.

Eventually I paid it off, but I'm not a guy who likes to have debt. I'm not comfortable with it, never have been. I used to pay my phone and electric bills a year in advance just so I wouldn't have to think about them (I also used to spend my rent money at the track, but I don't do that anymore either - long story).

Now before you say it, don't say it. I know I could've invested that money instead of letting the phone and power company earn interest on it. But to me, my peace of mind and retaining the ability to breathe knowing those bills were paid was a good investment.

Anyway, as a result of having run up that card - little suckers just sneak up on you don't they? - I now do something I've never done. I pay as I go.

At the end of every day, I go on the credit card site and see how much I've charged. Then I transfer money from my checking account to cover the daily balance. With a keystroke, I'm current on the card.

It also helps because knowing how much is in my checking keeps a tighter rein on my spending since I know I'll have to cover it the next night. At least that's the theory.

But with 467,000 frequent flyer miles, I'm not sure how well it's working.