A Magic Carpet Ride...

I'm on a magic carpet ride, thanks to this book.  I've even done a bit of time travel.

Brian Murphy, international religious writer for Associated Press, writes compelling stories about his 'carpet pilgrimage'.  It's personal, but not self-indulgent.

At times, it is so poignant, I have to stop for a day.  To let my tears dry, sometimes, or to think about what I have read:

"It's like this," he said.  "Death comes.  We leave this world for another.  This is the cycle.  We cannot change it.  But I see other types of death around us too.  These are little deaths.  I'm talking about losing the stories of our grandparents.  I'm talking about how we feel distant from nature now.  Will generations from now know the beautiful colors locked in this simple root?  I often think the answer is no, and my heart break."

He looked at me hard.

"Tell this story," he urged.  "Tell it well if you can." (p.6)

Travelogue, art history, philosophy, religion and politics all combine.  If you've ever wondered about life in post-Taliban Afghanistan, this is a great book.

The writing is clear and direct.  The author's voice is humane - even humble - as Murphy comes face-to-face with lingering assumptions and romantic notions which, in spite of intelligence and shrewdness, somehow survived his journalistic career.

"[This is]...a scrapbook from a world that, if not yet vanishing, is certainly under threat.

I imagine my goal could seem too modest or lightweight compared with the immense body of literature on wild carpets and their history.  I could reply by repeating a snippet from a Turkmen folk saying from central Asia:  Carpets are our soul....I hope others will listen.

I like to think that, maybe, a few more people will skim their palms over a carpet's knots, marvel at the colors, and wonder:  Who was here before? What dyer, with arms stained by madder, mixed these colors? What would the weaver want to say to me?" (p.7)

I hope you enjoy it too.

When in doubt...ask.

Marketing and Parenting are not as different as you might thing.

I watched a woman try to bribe her child with an icecream. She wanted him to be quiet while she bought a whatchamacallit. He was bored. She told him she would buy him an icecream. As a bribe, it didn't work.

Not that I advocate bribery, necessarily.

Two problems.

1) She didn't check that an icecream was a suitable incentive.

2) - and perhaps more crucially - she didn't link the incentive with the required behaviour.

So the child got his icecream, the mother got a headache and both were a bit confused by the mild ill-will created on both sides.

When working with pre-schoolers (and adults too, if I'm honest) I check that the 'reward' is going to inspire.

"If you can be quiet until I finish talking to Mum, I will give you this shiny sticker. Do you think that the sticker will help you remember to be very quiet?"

Marketers need to remember this more often. 

Today I was offered a $60 MYER voucher to attend a marketing seminar. I explained that I wasn't planning to buy, and had attended the seminar in the past (and I didn't buy then either). The poor phonesalesman told me three times about the voucher. It was not motivating.

If he'd asked me was I interested in winning a $60 MYER voucher, I would have said, "No" and we could both have got on with something useful.

So, don't assume.  When in doubt...ask.

Small Things Speak Louder than You Think

A friend of mine recently ate at a rather glamourous restaurant. The food was pleasant, the ambience very nice indeed. The bill was commensurate with the ambience. Then she went to the bathroom.

No, I'm not about to "over share". The bathroom was clean and had the usual facilities. The toilet paper and dispenser of soap were... Coles homebrand.

There is nothing wrong with Coles home brand. But you expect something a bit more flash at that price point. There's a big dissonance or incongruity in a posh marble and chrome bathroom, with a little plastic Coles home-brand soap dispenser sitting on the vanity.

It's a simple - and probably sensible - attempt to reign in margins, something any successful restauranteur needs to do. Somehow it is easy to see this small thing as either "we didn't think" or "we don't care".

Inexpensive and attractive soap dispensers can be purchased from most homewares shops. All they had to do was buy one and decant the home brand into it. My friend's hands would probably have noticed that it was inexpensive soap, but she wouldn't have noted it as cheap soap.

As a result, this was the story my friend told about the restaurant. It sprang to mind today when I drove past the restaurant. I don't think that's what their Marketing Manager or Maitre d' wants me to be thinking.

On my last driving holiday in rural England, I found a way to get a good dinner was look for pubs covered with baskets of flowers. If the flowers were in good condition, the food was likely to be good. My theory was that any publican willing to climb a ladder to keep their flower baskets in good condition during high summer really cared - and that was the kitchen I wanted to eat out of.

Small things speak louder than you think.