Writing Boots

On communication, professional and otherwise.

Some tardy advice for the sad communicator

08.11.2011 by David Murray // 6 Comments

Writing Bootistas Kristen Ridley and Rueben Bronee have reminded their communications brethren and sistren that they ought to have fun in this job—or at least ought to notice the fun they do have.

Are we so head-down stressing about ROI and getting a seat at the big kids table and strategy and all that serious business stuff that we're losing sight of how much fun this work really is? (If it helps, refer to planning and strategy as "plotting and scheming"—I find that right away makes it less of a drag.) I mean come on, who else gets to do the kind of work we do in most organizations? Think they're doing all this creative stuff down in accounting? I know accountants who are really good at accounting and actually enjoy it. But do they have fun? Not so sure they do. But we communicators, we get all the fun stuff. In fact, if your world is anything like mine, you've probably had people from other parts of the organization tell you that from time to time. "You guys get all the fun stuff, don't you?" they ask with this slightly accusatory tone and a wistful look in their eyes.

The professional storyteller who hates his work is as unwanted a foolish failure as the circus clown who drinks between shows. Let's see: You work in a non-essential field that doesn't pay much—and you hate it?

Of course I feel sorry for people who have painted themselves into any mid-career corner: I am unappreciated, I am not given creative freedom, communicating for corporations is like teaching art to Philistines.

But as the Lady Chablis is fond of saying, "Two tears in a bucket, motherfuck it."

And the pity of clients or bosses turns to contempt as fast as fruit rots.

So get yourself happy—because your own cheerfulness is the only status you'll ever have in this work, babe—or get busy finding a less miserable way to make a hell of a lot more money.

It's your life. It won't be perfect. But it doesn't have to be absurd.

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“Hope summer’s treating you well”

08.10.2011 by David Murray // 5 Comments

So say the polite e-mail correspondents these days, hoping to ease into their proposal or request. (Believe it or not, I receive as many proposals and requests as I make.)

I've taken to replying,

Summer's been great. Too great. Am getting fat. Who gets fat in the summer? I mean, Drink much? I'm going to have to start smoking again to lose this belly! Speaking of smoking, all the Taco Bell binges from the reefer munchies probably aren't helping either. CHRIST ALMIGHTY, if I wasn't having as much sex as I am, I'd probably be dead by now! How's your summer?

Then I leave it at that and judge what they're made of by how and whether they respond.

Categories // Uncategorized Tags // "hope summer's treating you well"

Good Guy: A Chicago Fire Department “brand ambassador,” who’s probably never heard that term

08.09.2011 by David Murray // Leave a Comment

When something goes wrong, I'm the first to admit it. … When something goes right, it's likely to lose me. It's apt to confuse me. It's such an unusual sight. —Paul Simon

I've always liked those lyrics, but they make more sense to me now that I'm older, and have learned to approach the world with a defensive stance—assuming the source I'm calling probably won't want to talk to me, the day won't work out quite as we planned, it may well rain the whole time we're in Florida, who knows?

It's a useful mindset, because it deals with disappointment ahead of time, and generates gratitude for days when things only go according to Hoyle.

But when amazingly good things happen, we guarded grown-ups can find ourselves a little lost.

Like the other night, when, passing by the little fire station on the way home from dinner in Chinatown, my friendly out-of-town brother-in-law Lewis said hello to the firemen sitting around in front of the station.

One of the firefighters, a bald fellow a couple years younger than me, introduced himself to Scout as Guy, and asked if she'd like to come inside and look at the trucks.

Within moments she was up in the cab of a truck, having it explained to her the difference between a fire truck and a fire engine (the truck has the hoses, the engine has the ladder). Now she's holding the fire ax. Now she's looking up the brass fire pole. Now she's putting on the uniform, as Guy passionately explains to both of us his firefighting technique, and what he's learned over 15 years on the job.

We were there for more than 20 minutes, and I had to drag her out of there or I think Guy would have insisted on taking her on a run.

Guy was obviously having a great deal of fun—fire shifts these days are long and mostly quiet on account of buildings aren't made of wood any more—but I was so grateful for this experience that I was embarrassed.

There's a lot of glib talk in corporate America about making employees "ambassadors of the brand."

Ain't no HR initiative gonna make the average employee a good Guy.   Firestation

Categories // Uncategorized Tags // Chicago Fire Department, Chinatown, fire station, Guy, Paul Simon, Something So Right

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