Working at the car wash

Those of you who have been fortunate enough to get to know Cicero’s German-made chariot will be aware that it is usually wears a patina of what is commonly known as dirt and dust and must not be approached while wearing anything dressy, pristine or light in colour, and most certainly not when wearing white. 

In an effort to rectify this, Cicero took his chariot to the hard-working east Europeans who work like dervishes to keep the nation’s chariots clean and bright and in doing so help refute Monsieur Farage’s opinions that nothing good came from Europe.

It was interesting to watch these young men from the lands beyond the Danube and the Elbe go about their business. They were working in an extremely enclosed tight space, crowded with chariots, and darting from jet wash to waxing to chamois leather with no thought for their own safety. And do you know what-not one of them wore a High Viz jacket, the fashion wear accessory of choice for anyone in any kind of work environment these days. Or so it seems.

Cicero is sure that these welcome strangers to our shores have received nothing as seemingly essential as a safety briefing. And yet despite this no one seems close to have come to anything more injurious than getting wet.

Gentlemen from the eastern tribes, Cicero salutes you all. You are our role models. Though it cannot be long before the Health and Safety Gauleiters catch up with you and force you to conform.  

And to highlight the continuing absurdities of these people, you might like to pay heed to Cicero’s recent experience. And should you suffer from health and safety OCD read no further.

For in an effort to relieve the oppressive heat under which Dear Cicero and his fellow co-workers were recently being forced to toil to fund not only their own lifestyles but also those of the Apparatchik Army who live in taxpayer funded luxury, Cicero opened the fenestration in his workplace.

How very daring.

Quicker than it takes to say litigation, his competence in this highly skilled task was being questioned why health and safety was being breached and why no yellow-green vest was being worn when fenestration fiddling. His defence that he had been opening widows without incident since long before health and safety was invented when we had common sense, cut no ice with the Gauleiters who threatened to remove all privileges.

Ridiculous.

Health and safety was invented to improve the safety in dangerous industries like mining, construction, deep sea fishing and the like. It was not designed for bureaucrats and salariats. Or even car cleaning operatives.

In this instance common sense lost out, yet again. The world is going slowly mad. Our personal freedoms are being slowly eroded, our decision making dulled and our sense of personal responsibility strangled.

Time to learn from those tribesmen from the East. Time to live a wee bit dangerously.

Sit felix. Et sit fortunatus.

Stone Age Medicine

I hope you had a great break over Easter. Now it’s time to get back to work and regain the momentum we lost over the Bank Holiday weekend.

And here’s a shocker for you-I have met a real life Health and Safety Gauleiter. You might see a softer tone from me on these hard pressed people doing an important job. Alternatively you might not.

Is it only me...who thinks that the NHS needs to join 21st century?

A very good friend has in recent weeks been subject to the wonders of our NHS. And when I share this story with you you no doubt will come to the same conclusion as me-the Two Caesars are right to seek to reform to this venerable institution and to drag it screaming and kicking into the 21st century, or at least into the latter half of the last century.

Now lest these fine words should be read by my own physician let me say at the outset that I have no and have never had any complaint about the treatment I have received at the hands of the NHS, my beef has always been with NHS Apparatchiks and their lack of efficiency.

But back to my friend.

For reasons of patient confidentiality, and because I don’t know it, I will not disclose the condition but needless to say it was beyond the competence and capability of the GP who needed to refer my friend to a higher authority and be seen by a consultant.

All well so far. But this is where it all began to unravel.

For to see a consultant the GP has to pen a letter of referral which needs to be sent by an Apparatchik at the GP surgery to another Apparatchik who looks after the consultant’s diary-seemingly the medical profession is far too important to have to write their own communications and manage their own diaries. If you want to see how this is done, boys, look at the private sector where PAs and secretaries are becoming as rare as final salary pension pots.

After a short wait my friend hadn’t yet heard anything so she called up to be told that the letter had not yet been faxed to the consultant because the person whose responsibility it was to work the fax machine was away on holiday.

Yes, you were right first time, your eyes are not deceiving you.

It was a good job that my friend’s condition was not life threatening.

Now maybe it’s only me but who in this day and age sends letters by fax. This is like medicine from the Stone Age. Someone ought to tell these people that today is an electronic age and most sensible business people send communications safely, securely and instantaneously via the wonders of the world wide web. Perhaps someone might be able to explain to me why the NHS still persists and insists on using mediaeval technology.

And while we are it, why would any right minded business or organisation think it right and acceptable that communications could only be sent by one person and when this person was ill or on holiday or having a tea break, nothing could be communicated. No one else would tolerate a single point of failure like this or find this acceptable.

And yet still the Apparatchiks claim the NHS doesn’t need reform. Ye gods, if these people were working in my business , we would not be in business by the end of the week if they behaved and thought in an Apparatchik way which they wouldn’t of course should they be seeking to create value to pay for the Apparatchik-ariat.

It’s time to reform this rotten edifice and put a stop to Stone Age medicine being practised by the NHS. At least our medicines and treatments have moved on.

And to think we fund the over generous pension pots of these people.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

Lightbulb moment

Is it only me...but I now know why I am making a spectacle of myself these days.

For years and years I had perfect eyesight and while other people were squinting to read things at distance this was never a problem for me.
‘Can you read that?’ many people would say to me with incredulity and surprise.

And my ability to read things whether close up or long distance was done unaided. No spectacles, contact lenses or monocles for me.

It was a gift.

But in recent years my eyesight has rapidly dimmed and reading anything, unless in the biggest of prints, is now only possible with lenses of some sort. This is annoying and inconvenient. A faff and a hassle.

No longer can I just pick something up and read it or quickly skim a piece of paper thrust under my nose. Glasses have to be located now before any reading takes place. And no matter how small the confined space, spectacles have the habit of making themselves scarce when wanted as much as the TV remote does.

For months I put my vision loss down to age. After all my eyes are almost as old as the rest of my body. But now I think I have found the real reason. Last week I had an epiphany, a Eureka, a lighbulb moment. I was wrong.

Now maybe it’s only me but I think my vision loss can be squarely blamed on the enviro-mentalists.

In their drive to save some polar bear on some ice floe somewhere these madmen (and no doubt mad women) cloaked by spurious scientific fundamentalism have deemed it necessary that we all have too much light.
And as a consequence it is now illegal, and yes I do mean illegal, to have light in our homes, offices and factories, which is bright, clear and healthy. Instead we have a kind of neo-light which is dim, grey and unhealthy. But it is low energy, low emitting light so that should put an end to our Wonky Weather-and if you believe that you will believe anything.
You might even believe that the eco-mentalist fundamentalists are right.

And because I do a lot of reading and because in this country there are many times when it is not possible to read by natural light, I am obliged to read by unnatural neo-light which is causing untold damage to my eyes. My eyesight is therefore being sacrificed to save a polar bear. I hope it’s grateful.

Given that the Health and Safety Gauleiters have made more noise about far less, I can assume that at some point they will take a close interest in neo-light before as a nation we run out of cute golden Labradors. For once we can live in hope that these Jobsworths might do something useful. I wouldn’t hold my breath.

In the meantime have a great week and should you be interested in reading what you should study to get ahead in business, check out ‘A question of degree’ at The Marketing Comic (www.themarketingcomic.blogspot.com).

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

Shoulder to cry on

Is it only me...but does anyone know what the hard shoulder is for?

The other night I was driving home along some of this country’s finest motorways when lights above me and ahead of me started to flash red. It was a traffic jam. And before you could say Jensen Button we were reduced to travelling at the speed of an arthritic snail with a zimmer frame, on roads designed and built to carry traffic speedily and efficiently from A to B.

Something must be up, I thought, for I can be perceptive like that. No doubt the red lights and slow, slow speeds gave it away.

Mile after mile after mile after mile we proceeded in this fashion, edging our way along the tarmac. At any moment I was expecting to be serenaded by Chris Rea as we crawled along the Road to Hell. And why is it that when the speedo barely touches 10mph the warning signs are exhorting you to do no more than 50mph in these conditions? Fat chance.

And after what seemed an age, time that I would never get back, and at my age all time is becoming increasingly precious, our three line highway squeezed into two lanes.

And then up ahead in the deepening gloom appeared the cause of the motorway chaos-a car had got into some kind of mechanical trouble and had applied its winking, blinking hazard lights and headed onto the hard shoulder. There it had been immediately surrounded by those neo-policemen, popularly known as Wombles, who look like policemen in police cars but who aren’t really and can’t do anything should you speed past them at speeds in excess of 70mph. Do you know who I mean?

Now in case you missed this-the car with the winking and blinking hazards was on the hard shoulder. It was therefore out of the way of all traffic. It was causing no obstruction. It was not in the way. It was not blocking our progress.

However this was not good enough for the Wombles who no doubt to justify their very existence had deemed it necessary for reasons that are beyond me, that the car with the winking and blinking hazards needed to be isolated from the other traffic lest its sparks plugs, cam shaft or alternator might be infected with some auto virus and other otherwise healthy vehicles be struck down. As a consequence the inside lane was also closed and this was in fact the cause of the trouble.

Now it might only be me but when I was taught to drive a car I was told that the hard shoulder was where broken down vehicles were to go. Has this been changed? Must two lanes be closed de rigeuer to satisfy some Health and Safety Gauleiter? Why was this change made? When? And if so exactly what is the purpose of the hard shoulder now?

It does seem rather strange to me that the Wombles,who presumably have it in their Job Description that their number one accountability and responsibility, and if they don’t have this we ought to ask why not, is to keep the traffic moving, should think that by reducing motorway capacity by 33% this would not cause a hold up. Nor can I understand why no one thought that a car parked on the hard shoulder was out of the way and unlikely to cause an obstruction.

To whom are these people accountable? How is their performance measured and evaluated? What does a high performing Womble look like?

Until we get answers to these questions, have a great week.

And don't forget to check out www.themarketingcomic.blogspot for more intellectual stimulation than you might get here.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

Open door policy

Is it only me...but how would you leave a room?

Now I work in a glorious office. It is an office space to die for. But the Health and Safety Gauleiters are doing their level best to ruin it. Someone needs to rein in these jumped up Hitlers. Who do they think they are?

The place where I work is an 18th century farm complex. It has lovely brick work, fabulous thick walls and plenty of natural light. And in this place I work in what I guess would be the hay loft, in an office about 20 metres by 20 metres-the ideal spot for me and my team to be creative.

We have three dormer windows in the roof space and a door. And it is the door that is causing the problem.

For yesterday I become emotionally disturbed when I discovered a workman chappie installing a Fire Exit sign above said door, seemingly ‘on the instructions of the Health and Safety Officer’.

To my mind surely a Fire Exit above a door, the only door leading in and out of my work space, is akin to putting a notice on a packet of peanuts warning ‘This product may contain nut traces’.

Now I might be missing something here but a door is a door, even in a fire. And should our place start to incendiarize my first thought will be to vacate the premises via my door. My instinct would not be to attempt an egress from the premises through the dormer windows. Indeed I cannot think of many people who would instinctively think this and attempt to exit in this way. Admittedly I do not have the warped mind of a Health and Safety Gauleiter nor do I move in the sort of imbecilic circles of the Health and Safety Community but it is surely obvious a door is a door and is used to exit and enter a space. Can anyone think of another use for a door?

From time to time we do get visitors into our space and I suppose you could argue, if you worked in Health and Safety you certainly would, that visitors might not know how they should leave in a hurry. Now that is a fair point, I suppose. It is however worth point out that we are not talking an office the size of the Plains of the Serengeti and I have just checked that the door is clearly visible from all points in the office and can be reached easily in 5 strides from any desk.

Can you see my point?

I now await anyone who can justify the stupidity of the need to deface my beautiful brick work with this bureaucratic-inspired vandalism. To whom are these jumped up pip squeaks accountable?

Pope Julius II had Michelangelo to deface his walls. I get a Health and Safety Apparatchik. I know who I would prefer.

Have a great week. And hopefully you will not need to use your door in a hurry.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

The blame game

Is it only me......but wonky weather is not our fault.

Recently I was checking out at the supermarket and the young whippersnapper of a cashier suggested to me I should bring my own bag because plastic bags weren't good for the environment telling me in no uncertain terms:
"That's our problem today. Your generation didn’t care enough to save our environment for future generations".

Clearly a closet enviro-mentalistic eco-warrior.

Shocked and stunned that I and my generation were being blamed for the wonky weather and after some reflection and soul-searching on "Our" day, here's what I remembered about our generation......

Back then, we returned milk, lemonade and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles repeatedly. So they really were recycled.

We walked up stairs, because we didn't have a lift in every store and office building. We walked to the shops and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

Back then, we washed the baby's nappies because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 240 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of Wales. In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.

Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn petrol just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

Back then before health and safety had been invented, we drank from a water fountain or from the tap when we were thirsty instead of using a throwaway cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

Back then, people took the bus, and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their mums into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.

It might only be me but isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we older folks were just because I don’t recycle my carrier bags and have the nerve to blame us for the wonky weather? It is not our fault that the polar bears don’t have any ice.

Let he or she who is without sin cast the first stone.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

For the Long Jump

A friend of mine recently went for an interview. Because I am nice, kind and thoughtful, as I am sure you already know, I sent a message to say good luck and hoping interview went well. According to my friend ‘it is now all down to the competition’.

This is nonsense and I want to explain to you why today. But first let me tell you a story which I think is true.

Once upon a time, in 1968 to be precise, at the Olympic Games in Mexico, there were two great high jumpers-Lyn Davies from Britain and Bob Beamon from America. At the time Lyn Davis was the favourite for the gold medal but with his very first leap, in the rarefied atmosphere of Mexico, Beamon almost jumped out of the sand pit setting a world record that was not beaten for decades. Davies was shattered, failed to win a medal of any colour and never scaled the same heights, or jumped the same lengths, again.

In interviews afterwards the difference in mindsets was stark. Davies’s personal goal was to win the gold medal. Beamon’s was to jump 29 feet. He reckoned that would win the gold medal. Davies’s goal was not in his gift, that was out of his control. He could only control his own performance, not that of the competition. Beamon, on the other hand, could deliver his goal through his performance and his alone. Beamon only had one thing to worry about. Davies had the rest of the field to think about. Beamon had focus. Davies did not. Beamon minimised his interferences. Davies maximised his.

For me at an individual or even at business level, potential equals performance minus interferences. For us and our businesses to be successful and to be as great as they can be, we must work to reduce the interferences and by focusing on controlling those factors which are within our control and within our gift. Worrying about issues outwith and beyond our control is a waste of physical and emotional energy, energy that is better harnessed on helping us be the best we can be.

Let us take the example of my friend. By thinking about the competition for the role, energy was being dissipated, energy which would have been better deployed. Focus was being lost. Performance might suffer.

Similarly fears and negative doubts would start to creep in; what if conversations would be running through the head; interferences in the mind would grow and potential not realised. Fear of and intimidation by the competition was now the focus rather than a concentration on ensuring the key points were made in the interview or that the body language was correct in the meeting. We only have so many brain cells we can devote to a given subject at any one time so why not use these brain cells in a positive way on factors we can control.

And what is true of the individual is also true of the businesses and the brands we manage.

I have no problem with businesses who want to beat the competition or which want to grow at the expense of the competition or who carefully watch and monitor what their competitors do. Indeed I think these are perfectly healthy things for any ambitious and growing business to want to do. But I do not believe that businesses should be built around chasing market share, for example. Market share is a by product of doing a lot of other things very well. Market share is the business equivalent of trying to win the gold medal in the long jump-if someone comes along with a killer strategy which results in your market share being eroded, what do you do now? What interferences to great performance are now in your business, in the minds of your people?

Focus instead on having a great strategy which maximises the assets and capabilities within your business and keep your organisational focus on these factors. You control these. Let market share or similar outcome metrics follow.

It is also worth remembering that great brands and businesses do not even acknowledge there is a competition. Doing this confers legitimacy. Doing this distracts.

Sure some brand and businesses revel in their challenger status, see virgin and Avis for examples. But this is a carefully considered positioning strategy to differentiate. Do you think Apple acknowledges the existence of Microsoft? Or Coke acknowledges the presence of Pepsi? Or Tesco even knows Sainsbury’s exists? You might call it arrogance. They would call it being No 1.

In other words be Bob Beamon, not Lyn Davies.

Is it me?

Is it just me who gets up tight about the creeping absurdity of our approach to health and safety? I think not? On a train to Manchester the other day I was forced, and I mean that, forced, to carry my cup of coffee in a brown bag to my seat as if it was illegal contraband. And yet when I get to London I am almost and repeatedly bowled over by those stupid trolley dolly briefcase on wheels that now seem to be the briefcase of choice by those too lazy to carry their work like people once did in ye olden days.

Has it never occurred to our health and safety gualeiters just how dangerous these contraptions are compared to a cup of hot coffee and just how much space someone using one of these instruments of injury occupies? I bet that there is someone out there reading these words planning a campaign to outlaw these monsters or maybe even introduce a tax. Anyone else think coffee should be freed from the health and safety vice and a campaign launched to better regulate and control the use of trolley dolly briefcases.

Have a great week.

Sit felix. Et sit fortunatus.