The perfect gift

Christmas trees are in the stores and the holidays are upon us. And with them comes the ongoing debate I have every year with people who obviously have nothing better to debate about.

It’s the “Gift cards are not personal” debate.

Their side of the argument is a truly personal gift can only be defined in direct proportion to the misery I have to go through to get it. Hours searching for a parking space within a mile of the mall. Fighting holiday crowds. Looking for exactly the perfect gift for the person I’m giving it to.

You know the gift I'm talking about. The one that person’s had on their list all year. The one they’re hoping for with all their heart. The one they’ll be forever grateful and thankful to me for taking all that time and effort to find just for them.

There’s about as much chance of that happening as Oprah not going back for seconds.

My argument is this: I could buy you something I think you’d like, wrap it up, give it to you and hope you:

A Didn’t have it

B. Were looking for that exact thing since you first saw one

C. Know the in’s’ and out’s of a gift receipt.

Or I could just give you a gift I know you’ll love.

A gift card.

No one knows anyone well enough to make holiday gift-giving bulletproof. But there are stores – the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble, Starbuck’s, Target and Nordstrom to name a few – where everyone can find something they like.

And if they can't find it in those stores, not a problem. Every store has a gift card.

Someone in the family love Quarter Pounders? No problem. Want to treat them to a ride on Space Mountain? Couldn't be easier. Attention Walmart shoppers? You got it.

With a gift card, the one thing they never get is disappointed. Unless it’s a gift card from Kohl’s. Then, you know, why bother? Why not just send a card that says, “This is how little I think of you.”

This holiday season, be the Santa you were meant to be. Spread the joy to those you love.

Give the gift that says, “Get it yourself.”

I Got You Babe

I think people forget before there was Cher, there was Sonny and Cher.

While it's hard to remember now exactly how hugely popular they were, one thing no one can argue is that they're responsible for one of the most iconic, enduring and crowd-pleasing songs in pop music history. Bill Murray woke up to it every morning in Groundhog's Day. Mad Men just closed their season finale with it.

It's interesting to see the clip above when they were just starting out, and compare it against the one below when, many years later, they unexpectedly performed on Letterman. Despite the fact so much time and life had passed for both of them, it's a great moment.

Perhaps appropos (five dollar word - look it up) of their relationship by that point, the clip is just slightly out of sync.

And while you can argue that Cher may have moved on from Sonny, you can tell by the end of the song, and the fact he has tears in his eyes, he still holds her deep in his heart.

I admit I'm a sap. I don't mind saying I was getting a little misty myself.

The List

Here's the thing about upper management.

The guys at the top do not go down with the ship. They push people off so they can continue sailing.

They inspire a false sense of trust through breezy conversation and carefully parsed out praise. They conspire with you by whispering a risque joke, and sharing what appears to be a confidence but in reality isn't. When there's a grievance, they take you in their office, close the door, give you a well-practiced sympathetic and understanding look as they tell you how they feel your pain. Then they assure you that "if I could do something about it, I would."

Here's the lesson: despite carefully constructed appearances to the contrary, they're not your friend. But they act like it, as long as you're cost effective and the challenging comments you make or errors and stupid decisions you point out don't reflect directly on them.

As long as that's the case, then your position isn't on The List.

At this point you might be wondering what's triggered this line of thought. Don't worry, I haven't been fired (you need a real job for that to happen). Actually, someone I used to work for happened to cross my mind. Someone I believed to be my friend.

Admittedly it's a line that's easily blurred for me.

You'd think for as many times as I've seen The Godfather, I'd know by now - it's not personal, it's business. The thing is, because of the masquerade, it feels personal.

Here's the funny part: I still like this individual. Even though when given the choice, they wound up putting my name on The List. Which is the very reason I believe they're not my friend. See the conflict?

I hope this person is happy, and not in the "I hope you're happy now" sense. I mean it.

While I'm sure I'm giving this person much more brain time than they've given me since I left - or maybe even than when I was there for that matter - I can't help but feel a profound sadness that this was a person I thought was my friend, and who I counted on to have my back.

Turns out they did. Just not in the way I thought.

The unfriendly skies

Going to the airport shouldn't create the same sense of dread as, say, going to the Audi service department. Or the dentist. Or an audit.

There was an article today on Yahoo titled "America's Meanest Airlines." It listed the five surliest airlines in descending (no pun intended) order.

My question is why wasn't it a five-way tie? Are there any friendly airlines left? Does anyone enjoy flying anymore? Does anyone expect people who work at airlines to be pleasant? Can I fit anymore questions in this paragraph?

You can read the article to find out the criteria they used, but - *SPOILER ALERT* - here are the five worst offenders according to them: US Airways, American Airlines, Alaska Airlines, United Airlines (I thought they would've been a lock for first place), and finally, in the number one position, Delta.

Of those, United is the one I've flown most. I have over 375,000 miles with them I have to use before they expire. Or they raise the number of miles required for a seat. Or, even more likely, they drop the program entirely citing it as too costly.

When I used to freelance at FCB San Francisco (Foote, Cone & Belding for my non-agency readers), I commuted from Santa Monica to San Francisco. I'd fly up Monday morning and fly back Friday night. I did it for nine months and loved it. At LAX and SFO, I could get to the gate ten minutes before the flight. The gatekeepers (see what I did there?) knew me by name, and because I flew so much would often upgrade me without even asking. I know it's only an hour flight, but here's my philosophy: no flight too short for first.

Flying was actually fun back then, plus I liked the idea I could get to San Francisco from Santa Monica faster than I could drive to Irvine at rush hour.

But of course, 9/11 happened and changed the flying experience forever.

Nine years later, it's hard to figure out the astonishing lack of responsibility airlines take for their own situation. Like the stock market, lottery tickets and the Liberace Museum, owning an airline was never a guaranteed way to make money.

However, gouging flyers with fees on everything from carry ons to blankets to bathroom privileges apparently is. The airlines made billions in the last two years off these fees, whining all the way to the bank about how they need to make money somewhere because of high fuel costs, less people flying, etc.

What's the word I'm looking for here? Oh yeah. Bullshit.

The past two years, thanks to those fees, profits have soared. Airlines fly fewer planes that are more full than ever. The price of jet fuel has actually gone down. And seriously, if you can't make money in your chosen business, maybe you've chosen the wrong business.

The other thing is unruly passengers are a given. In the airline industry, you kind of know that going in. And while there's no excuse for passengers being rude, there's even less of one for airline employees to be. Things like opening the emergency door on the runway, giving everyone the finger, then jumping down the slide might make you a folk hero on Facebook, but that 15 minutes is over before you're even off the slide.

Airline employees say they're being pushed to the brink because the airlines are squeezing profits by cutting staff and trying to do more with fewer employees. Really? Name me a business that isn't.

My point, and yes I have one, is that it can be done. There are profitable airlines like Southwest and Jet Blue. There are airlines like Virgin America and Jet Blue (when their attendants aren't bailing out of the plane) that go out of their way to make the customer experience a great one.

For long cross-country and international flights, airlines know they've got us. There's no alternative. No one's going to be driving to Hawaii. But on short hauls, where airlines make a substantial portion of their income, there are plenty of options.

Unless airlines change their attitude, eventually their customers will reach the tipping point.

When that happens, all those nice profits they're enjoying now will be in a permanent holding pattern.

Why I Love Costco Part 1: The Costco Diet

Where to start. Okay, let’s start with the samples.

If I were homeless*, which could still happen – I have goals you know - I’d find myself a popular freeway off-ramp, design a really nice cardboard sign (I have art director friends, so….) and be the best gosh, darn homeless person asking for money so I could get enough to buy a Costco membership.

Then, I’d go on the Costco diet.

The Costco diet consists of walking up one big aisle in Costco and down the other, sampling all the foods they offer along the way. Yesterday two of the offerings were Hormel Chili (“Not too watery, not too salty...”) and fresh-baked Costco pumpkin pies which, as my friend Phil says, are the size of manhole covers.

The beauty of the Costco diet is the randomness of it. One day it’s frozen cheescake and Hansens Nectar. The next its Louisiana Hot Links and chicken soup.

Sampling food at Costco always reminds me of Woody Allen’s line from Annie Hall, “This food is terrible. And such small portions.” The samples are small, but the good news is the people handing them out aren’t paid nearly enough to care how many times you go back.

Especially if you wear your sweatshirt hood up the second time around. Or so I hear.

If you’re really hungry, go back a lot. If you’re on a strict “I don’t know what kind of cheese that is but they’re handing it out so I’ll try it” diet, then just make one pass through the store.

I know, you’re probably thinking virtually endless free samples of preservative-laden, packaged and canned food is its own reward. And you're right. That alone would make the visit worth the trip. But there’s also a hidden benefit: since the stores are so ginormous, not only are you getting a free meal, you’re also getting in a ton of exercise with all the walking you're doing.

At least that's what I tell myself.

Maybe their new tagline should be “Costco. It works on so many levels.”

I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. I mentioned the Costco diet is what I’d do if I were homeless. The truth is I occasionally do it now, although not out of necessity. And not every day. I try to stick to weekends between 10 and 3 when the number of sample hander-outers and variety is the greatest.

There are many things to love about Costco (Modern Family even devoted part of an episode to it). Sampling is just one of them.

I’ll discuss more in the next installment of what I just now decided to call The Costco Files.

*I realize homelessness is a serious problem. It is not my intention to diminish it or make fun of anyone in that situation. If you’re homeless and reading this blog on your laptop, I’m sorry.

If only

If only someone would take this New Agey, best sellin', crystal readin', self actualizin', India trippin', fortune cookie sayin' book and turn it into a tale of love and desire only, you know,
with vampires and shapeshifters.

Oh, wait a minute.

Never mind.

Run don't walk

I'm a sucker for a good horse movie. Hidalgo, Black Beauty, Flicka, Dreamer, Seabiscuit, all of 'em. But for me, this latest one, Secretariat, is the best in a very long time.

The challenge of a horseracing film of course is to build suspense when the audience already knows how it ends. The other challenge is to make it about more than just a fast horse. Secretariat does both things incredibly well.

Not only does it capture the drama and miracle of this remarkable animal, it gives a moving and accurate portrayal of Penny Chenery, who literally bet the farm on this horse. There are also the requisite horse racing scenes, although here they are remarkably gritty and realistic. There's one incredible slow-motion shot of the horse running with all four feet in the air that, for me, is worth the price of admission.

I'd be saying all this even if Diane Lane, my future second wife, wasn't in the movie. But she is, and as usual turns in a solid, stoic and moving performance. John Malkovich is also his quirky, funny self, and is outstanding as the trainer who saw Secretariat's potential literally from the moment the horse was born.

The other thing I loved is there's an old Hollywood feel to the movie. A glamourous, golden-agey sensibilty. It reminds me that there's a certain genre of movie - inspirational, edge-of-your seat, lump-in-your throat, not a car crash in sight kind of film - that Hollywood can do exceedingly well when it has the right material to work with.

This is a winning example of it.