There is no “we” in “I”.

In this corporate life, all the world’s a stage and we are supposed to be team players.

But what happens when the music is still playing and you’re the only left in the game?

I recently spent my Saturday (yes, big whoop I know, heaps of people work on Saturdays) working on a marketing campaign alone. We had (what I have now deemed) hours of useless brainstorming sessions only to settle on my original brainwave (if I may say so, myself) of an idea. Interestingly enough, after the last brainstorming  sessions, everyone disappeared. Not even a follow-up email on plan of attack of proposal, elements to be included, summary, etc…

So, there I was on Saturday, crafting out an entire marketing campaign from environmental graphics to viral advertising. This included design, artwork, execution, copywriting of extended taglines, rationale and research. Needless to say, this took me almost 7 hours. So, I emailed it out to the “team” and waited for inevitable.

The Feedback.

God help me, my blood pressure skyrockets every time I receive The Feedback. They are completely malignant emails which always start off with brilliantly vague, inclusive liners like:

  • “Can we include something about budget?”
  • “Should we say something about xxx?”
  • “Do you think it’s necessary to show that picture?”
  • “Can we find a better picture for this?”
  • “Can we put a one liner to say the pictures are dummies?”

And here would be my replies.

  • No. You could write the liner, have already included it in this email and I could put it in.
  • I don’t know. Should we? Maybe you could write it, include it in this email, giving me more to consider than just your random, hiccup of a thought.
  • Yes. That’s why I put it in. If you question its presence, please say why instead of questioning why the sky is blue.
  • Well, I couldn’t – but I’m sure you could – which is why you bothered to search for it and attach it to this email. Oh wait, you didn’t.
  • No, that makes all of us look like idiots.

 

And after all that, what I had done was deemed “good enough” – nary a word of “good job”. Oh, you cruel, unforgiving world.

Nightmares in inDesign.

Since my exquisite training in inDesign at Shillington, I have become somewhat of an inDesign nazi.

  1. Keyboard shortcuts (it’s called a shortcut for a reason, now)
  2. Paragraph styles (name them, not Paragraph Style 1, Paragraph Style 33)
  3. Character styles (and no, silly, silly, designers, they are not the same)
  4. Soft returns (don’t try  and dupe me with multiple tabbing to drop a word to the following line. I will apple+option+I to see your hidden characters and the jig will be up)
  5. Boxes, lines and text boxes do not make a table. Make a table.
  6. Clean up your goddamn swatches. If you’re not using a swatch, delete it. If you’re using it, name it. This was the straw that spawned this post. I took a file over yesterday and get a load of these swatches. Christ almighty, save their souls. Pantones, CMYK, RGB, named, unnamed – I almost blew an artery. Even the registration black was used as a colour!

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And this is what my swatches look like. Co-ordinated and organised.

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Maybe next time round, I’ll talk about the power of nested styles or other interesting goodies. No, not really.

Low Bromance.

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Caught I Love You, Man last night (maybe a little late in the game) and trust me when I say the funniest parts were in the trailer. The best part however was not in the trailer and came in the form of Rush music featured and finally, a concert from The Band themselves. Good gracious. I almost pissed myself. (Love you, Neil!)

The movie however, lacked the dirty finesse of Apatow and instead, veered into slapstick land of farts, spew and poo. Jason Segel was not Russell Brand, rather, a sad verbal reminder of an Apatow film. Paul Rudd (God bless him, I’ve loved him since Clueless) completely overacted and the role written for was loose and overly white trying to be black. I’m not sure who even thinks that’s funny.

I’ll wait for Funny People.

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Good gracious me.

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Well, if you take the train as I do, you would have noticed these ghastly remembrances and references to the TV show we all wish would just go away. Wait a minute, didn’t it already go away? And yet, it’s back again, right in front of my face reminding Singaporeans to be gracious.

Can’t we just let this go already and instead spend the money on “Service Staff to Speak English” campaign? Or better just, spend more money on the good ol’ “Speak English” campaign?

Instead, I spend my time waiting for the train, mortified and embarrassed to be Singaporean as we are treated like idiot children who need daft B-grade television characters to educate us on manners. I am not against campaigns to educate the public but is the only “winning” formula they think will work? Can’t we at least be a bit smart about it? Mortified!

The alternative is to embrace our lack of manners. To be proud of the fact that we must walk abreast on a footpath, not letting anyone pass. To bring to light the fact that we don’t greet strangers or thank bus drivers. To celebrate the people that faux-sleep on the train (honestly, they are Oscar award winning actors in the making – the dedication and commitment!). I say we have a “Good Gracious Me” campaign to honour the Singaporean within us – if you don’t like it, get the fuck out of our country.

Where have all the Thais gone?

Post holiday (of course, even a day back to the grind completely dissipates the relaxation) and here are some pictures – honestly, considering that people take photos of everything (even food. Why? I have no idea why people love taking these faux artistic shots of food), the amount of photos I took were pathetic. Although I look cute. (For people on Facebook who have seen these photos, look at them again!)

The question I ask is real: Where have all the Thais gone? The stretch of Patong has been completely invaded by Indians – who harassed us to no end. No longer were they touting us to make suits or buy DVDs – this time round, they were trying to hold our arms, shake our hands and verbally harassing us with cries (and at times, yells from across the road) “Hi baby!” “Hi sexy!” “Namaste” (I shit you not), “Your dress is so sexy, so transparent”, “India! From India!” and often, bursting into some indistinguishable Indian tongue. It really detracted from the usual authentic Thai feel (“massage!”) and for the remainder of the trip, we walked on the opposite side of the road and ensured we shopped at Thai owned stalls only.

To make it worse, there was a large amount of Indian tourists visiting Phuket at the same time – meaning we were leered at from all angles – in the pool, on the streets. It was really frustrating and it got to the point whenever we saw a bunch of Indians, Mish and I were, “oh shit, here we go again”.

I really do not understand the unabashed staring and leering that happens at us. Past a certain point, we were left wondering if we had walked out of the hotel naked, or something or had food on our faces. I am not sure if they are trying to identify our authenticity, fathom where we are from – maybe to them, we don’t look like real Indians. Who knows. All I know is that it is bloody rude to stare at someone – regardless of where you are from.

And by the way, I can say all this because I have Indian blood.

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I am not Hindu! I eat of the beef!