Living Social Media Stats

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Well Played Nike

Nike isn't a sponsor of the World Cup -- Adidas is -- but that didn't stop them from coming up with this brilliant ad called 'Write The Future'.

What I loved about it: The cameos (Kobe, Federer, Bart Simpson), the tongue-in-cheek narrative (Andy Wayne Rooney -- I've been watching too much 60 Minutes -- living in a trailer park?), the fact that instead of pushing the brand, Nike's showing how the Beautiful Game causes ripples throughout the world.

For me, it underscores once again how story trumps everything.

Words To Live By: Quotes by Jackie Onassis, 28 July 1929-19 May 1994

"The one thing I do not want to be called is First Lady. It sounds like a saddle horse."

"Being away from home gave me a chance to look at myself with a jaundiced eye."

"I want to live my life, not record it."

"I want minimum information given with maximum politeness."

"The only routine with me is no routine at all."

What "I'm Sorry But You're Overqualified" Really Means

You sent in a polished resume; wore your best suit for the interview; talked a good game. You've got years of experience, the job titles to prove it and an impressive network. The job should be yours except for one really minor detail: 


You're overqualified.


What does this undecipherable phrase really mean? My very unscientific poll of hiring managers yielded the following plain old English translations: 


"You're too expensive."


"You're cocky."


"You [choose one] graduated summa cum laude from the school that rejected me/party with Pete Cashmore/will be the next President of the United States. You intimidate me to death. But damn if I'm going to admit it."
"You say you want to change careers. I'm not going to be your guinea pig."

"You'll be out of here the minute you know how crap the job is. Truth is, there were three others before you."

"You're just desperate to pay the bills. I can tell."

There are really only two options if you keep hearing this phrase:

Dumb down your resume. If you buy into the philosophy that getting a job in this economy means being as generic, inoffensive and unthreatening as possible, by all means tone down your accomplishments and my best wishes to you.

Maybe they're right. Maybe you're really just desperate to pay the bills.

If that's not the case and you're genuinely looking for a company that's a pioneer and a game changer, then there's always the other option:

Laugh and carry on with the job hunt. Honestly, do you really want to work for someone who can't even be imaginative with their rejection language?

That rules out 99% of the companies hiring out there. But it makes you focus on the 1% who want excellence, not mediocrity. Who will look at your salary history and say, "The budget's tight but if you're willing to talk, let's work something out." Who will say, "You party with Pete Cashmore? We need you on board!"

I know which option I'd go for. Do you?

Behind Every Job, There Is A Poem. How Would You Write Yours?

UP THERE from Jon on Vimeo.

With gratitude to @eproulx for sharing this film through Twitter.

How Marjorie Scardino's Baseball Cap Got Me Back In The Game

I was 28, starting over. A marketing assistant for the Economist Intelligence Unit when once I had been a hotel PR manager. 


As a marketing assistant there were no critical decisions to make; no politics to deal with; just stuff to do. And that was all I wanted out of work after what I had been through. 


My hotel PR management career had shuddered to a stop the day Human Resources came around to my office, drew down the blinds, told me my contract had not been renewed and that I had to leave that same day. This was my first job in a foreign land. 

For months I would wake up at 3 a.m., my heart beating wildly. I could not find a similar position in another hotel. In fact I could not find any PR job. When a friend hesitantly mentioned the marketing assistant position to me, I noted it down gratefully. I'd be earning less than half of what I used to make, and work the photocopy machine for people when once I had a secretary who did it for me. I chose to apply anyway. 

The explanation for the career back step made for uncomfortable conversation, so I avoided mentioning my past. I sought refuge in answering telephones; obsessively sharpening pencils for my boss Paul, the marketing director; stamping promotion codes neatly on order forms. 


I was proud of making tea for nine people English style (or what I thought was English style): Very milky, with two cubes of sugar, and not spilling anything on the tray when I set it down on desks. And everyday at 5 p.m. I briskly packed my things and took off. Slogging through the night belonged to executives with more worries than I was willing to take on.


Then one day we were told the CEO of The Economist Group was visiting Hong Kong. And that was when I first laid eyes on Marjorie Scardino.


It was a few years before Marjorie would become the first female chief executive of a company on the London Stock Exchange. It was years before she took on British citizenship and would be named Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire for her numerous achievements. It would be 13 years before she would rank 17th in Forbes' list of the 100 most powerful women in business. 


But that was all to happen in the future. All I knew then was that there was something very different and special about this lady with the yellow bob and crinkly smile. 


That afternoon, as she settled down in a spare office, I watched her don a blue baseball cap before she started working. It was very odd, seeing the company CEO in a very casual and rather worn cap.


Paul sent me in with some papers to hand to her. Marjorie looked up, smiled and thanked me. I proudly offered to make her English-style tea. She laughed, not in derision, but in delight. No thank you she said, in her unmistakeable American accent, all the more remarkable because the EIU Hong Kong president had mentioned in his farewell speech that one of his achievements was teaching the Americans how to spell.


That was when I asked her boldly, "Why do you wear a baseball cap?"


Marjorie Scardino looked at me with her eyes crinkling behind her glasses and said "It belongs to my son. When I wear it, I find it helps me think better."


That night I bought a cheap yellow jacket with black lapels at the Mongkok night market. I wore it to work the next day with black slacks and Versace-style black sandals with gold medallions, all bought at inexpensive chain stores. 


It was the first time I had worn anything resembling a suit to work. It was the first time I had worn anything that echoed my former life as a manager. I felt strong, secure and confident. Just like Marjorie's baseball cap, the jacket put me in the zone.


From that day onwards, my clothing -- and outlook -- changed. I started dressing smartly again, even though eyebrows were raised. I piped up more; offered to do PR; asked for additional responsibility. When a marketing executive left, I was offered her slot. I stayed behind at work to perfect DM letters and make sure my promotions were executed properly. 


I started taking risks again. Some were successful and I was praised for the results. Some initiatives bombed and I got my knuckles rapped. Unlike before though, I was unafraid. I enjoyed the experimentation, exploration and learning. Eventually I received an offer from another firm for a managerial position which I accepted. I was back in the game.


Every so often I read about Dame Marjorie Scardino, Pearson CEO and the First Lady of the FTSE 100. One article said that she still wears a baseball cap at work. She won't remember me at all, but if she ever reads this, I want her to know: You taught me to be true to myself. And I've still got the jackets to prove it.

Photo courtesy of thenextwomen.com