I'm pleased to share with Boots readers my column in the current issue of Advertising Age, about my dad's communication philosophy.
The best Plimpton I can be
There's a new oral-history biography out about George Plimpton who would be one of my heroes if I weren't so unbelievably jealous of him. (If you're going to be jealous of a dead man, why not be jealous of Shakespeare? Who sez I'm not?)
Plimpton's not only the source of some of my favorite writing, but also of one of my favorite writing stories: It comes from the introduction to a late edition of his famous book of participatory journalism, Paper Lion, about going through training camp with the Detroit Lions. Plimpton tells of being on an airport shuttle bus in Texas years later and noticing a young man in a cowboy hat staring at him: “Finally, he said, ‘I’ve read one book. Paper Lion.’” Plimpton asked the kid if he thought he’d ever read another book. “I don’t know,” came the response. “Have you written anything else?”
Well, yesterday, I pitched a Paper-Lion style story of my own, involving practicing with a women's professional football team and playing one set of downs in an exhibition game. Pitched not to a magazine yet, but to the team's management, who turned me down last year.
Here's hoping they have a change of heart or a new hunger for publicity.
Because I'd rather be a pale immitation than a jealous fan.
The dangerous double d’s: desperate, and disengaged
A friend forwards me an e-mail sent by his company's office manager:
Hey everyone. So Thursday, November 27th (Thanksgiving) and Friday, November 28th are company holidays, therefore you are not required to work. That being said, we have a [crucial customer event] on November 29th so I know that there will be people who will be working. If you intend to work in the office on Friday, November 28th please let me know. I will collect the information and pass it on to those who may need office support that day. For the record, I will not be working. Thanks, Nancy
Yes, Nancy is shirking on Nov. 28th, but she's making arrangements three weeks in advance, by God.
During these lean times, we all have to watch to make sure we're not sending the message that we're simultaneously disengaged and desperate. (Times being what they are, it would be hard not to be some combination of these things; but—again, times being what they are—it's important not to let anyone know.)
I'm beginning a list that I hope we'll all contribute to:
How know you might be coming off as disengaged or desperate or—dangerously—both:
• In e-mails, you start wishing people a good weekend on Wednesday afternoon, hoping they'll stop bothering you with new work requests until next week.
• You've been wishing people "happy holidays" since Halloween, hoping they'll stop bothering you with new work requests until January.
• Every time you talk to your boss, you find some way to mention your kids. Sometimes you slip up and actually refer to them by name: "Mouth to Feed Number One," "Mouth to Feed Number Two," and so on.