Author: Nailia Tasseel

The businessman and the fisherman

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

One day a fisherman was lying on a beautiful beach, with his fishing pole propped up in the sand and his solitary line cast out into the sparkling blue surf. He was enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun and the prospect of catching a fish.

About that time, a businessman came walking down the beach, trying to relieve some of the stress of his workday. He noticed the fisherman sitting on the beach and decided to find out why this fisherman was fishing instead of working harder to make a living for himself and his family. “You aren’t going to catch many fish that way,” said the businessman to the fisherman.

“You should be working rather than lying on the beach!”

The fisherman looked up at the businessman, smiled and replied, “And what will my reward be?”

“Well, you can get bigger nets and catch more fish!” was the businessman’s answer. “And then what will my reward be?” asked the fisherman, still smiling. The businessman replied, “You will make money and you’ll be able to buy a boat, which will then result in larger catches of fish!”

“And then what will my reward be?” asked the fisherman again.

The businessman was beginning to get a little irritated with the fisherman’s questions. “You can buy a bigger boat, and hire some people to work for you!” he said.

“And then what will my reward be?” repeated the fisherman.

The businessman was getting angry. “Don’t you understand? You can build up a fleet of fishing boats, sail all over the world, and let all your employees catch fish for you!”

Once again the fisherman asked, “And then what will my reward be?”

The businessman was red with rage and shouted at the fisherman, “Don’t you understand that you can become so rich that you will never have to work for your living again! You can spend all the rest of your days sitting on this beach, looking at the sunset. You won’t have a care in the world!”

The fisherman, still smiling, looked up and said, “And what do you think I’m doing right now?”

Visualising success

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

Major James Nesmeth had a dream of improving his golf game—and he developed a unique method of achieving his goal.

Until he devised this method, he was just your average weekend golfer, shooting in mid to low nineties. Then, for seven years, he completely quit the game. Never touched a club or set foot on a fairway.

But it was during this seven-year break from the game that Major Nesmeth came up with his amazingly effective technique for improving his game.

The first time he set foot on a golf course after his hiatus, he shot an astonishing 74. He had cut 20 strokes off his average without having swung a golf club in ten years! Not only that, his physical condition had actually deteriorated during those seven years.

What was Major Nesmeth’s secret? Visualisation.

Major Nesmeth had spent those seven years as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam. During those seven years, he was imprisoned in a cage that was approximately four and one-half feet high and five feet long. During almost the entire time he was imprisoned, he saw no one, talked to no one and had no physical activity. During the first few months he did virtually nothing but hope and pray for his release. Then he realised he had to find some way to occupy his mind or he would lose his sanity and probably his life. That’s when he learned to visualise.

In his mind, he selected his favorite golf course and started playing golf. Every day, he played a full 18 holes at the imaginary country club. He experienced everything to the last detail. He saw himself dressed in his golfing clothes. He smelled the fragrance of the trees and the freshly trimmed grass. He experienced different weather conditions—windy spring days, overcast winter days, and sunny summer mornings.

In his imagination, every detail of the tee, the individual blades of grass, the trees, the singing birds, the scampering squirrels and the lay of the course became totally real. He felt the grip of the club in his hands. He instructed himself as he practiced smoothing out his downswing and the followthrough on his shot. Then he watched the ball arc down the exact center of the fairway, bounce a couple of times and
roll to the exact spot he had selected, all in his mind.

He was in no hurry. He had no place to go. So in his mind he took every step on his way to the ball, just as if he were physically on the course. It took him just as long in imaginary time to play 18 holes as it would have taken in reality. Not a detail was omitted. Not once did he ever miss a shot, never a hook or a slice, never a missed putt.

Seven days a week. Four hours a day. Eighteen holes. Seven years. Twenty strokes off. Shot a 74.

The boiler and the dog

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

An energy company we were working with a couple of years ago told us this story.

It was in the wintry depths of February, and an elderly woman who lived alone had her boiler break down. So she called the gas company, and they sent a repairman.

When he arrived, he became more than a bit apprehensive when he saw a little dog that was running around his legs in a kind of frenzy. This dog was clearly harmless, but he’d always been terrified of them. Still, wanting to be polite, he didn’t say anything, and just went about his business hoping the dog would go away.

The boiler was old and fiddly, and the repairman had to go back to the depot to get parts. When he got back, the parts weren’t quite right, and he had to go back again. Every time he returned, there was the dog. As the flat was getting colder and colder, he pressed on with his work, despite this dog that made him tremble with fear.

After several hours, the job was finally done, and the radiators clanked back to life. When he went to say goodbye to the woman, she told him his service had been excellent, and she was very pleased. But she did offer one bit of constructive criticism.

“You really shouldn’t bring your dog with you to repair jobs”, she said.

Making a Difference

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

A young boy was walking a beach after a tropical storm. Driftwood and rubbish were everywhere, but also hundreds of starfish that had been washed up on the sand. The sun was starting to come up over the horizon, and as the boy skipped along, he bent down occasionally to toss a starfish back into the sea.

Another and yet another starfish was returned to its watery world, and as the boy continued his journey along the beach, a tourist walking from the opposite direction stopped to watch him with curiosity. He shrugged, continued walking, and then stopped again. He turned back towards the boy.

“Why are you throwing those starfish back into the sea?” he asked. The boy looked at him, somewhat surprised.

“The sun’s coming up. If these starfish don’t go back into the sea, they’ll shrivel up and die in the heat.”

“But there are hundreds of starfish on this beach,” said the tourist. “And thousands of starfish all over the world being washed up on beaches like this. You are wasting your time – you can’t possibly make a difference!”

The boy looked at him, unfazed. He bent down, picked up another starfish and threw it back into the waves.

“I made a difference to that one,” he said.

Ode to the Bird of Courage

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

Today is Thanksgiving, and as an American in London, I’ve had lots of people saying “Happy Thanksgiving!”, followed by “Is that what I’m supposed to say?”

Yes, that’ll do fine. And I’m pleased people are at least vaguely aware of the holiday, because it’s one of my favourites. It conjures lots of great memories of food and family, from the times as a young child when I thought it was a good idea to stoke family arguments about President Clinton, to the last couple of years when I’ve made massive feasts in tiny London flats for friends who’ve never experienced Thanksgiving before but seemed to ‘get it’ immediately.

All holidays are, to some extent, stories – the story of Jesus being born, the story of a guy who tried to blow up Parliament, the story of rebirth and renewal. But Thanksgiving offers two more selling points. First, it’s completely secular, and open to absolutely anyone. And second, as someone who likes stories, I find that it particularly encourages storytelling.

Lots of cultures have some kind of holiday based on the harvest feast. In America, legend has it that 150 pilgrims and Native Americans celebrated the harvest of 1621 by sitting down together for a feast. The historical accuracy of this is highly dubious, not least because of the unneighbourly way early settlers began to treat Native Americans shortly afterwards.

But in the modern version of Thanksgiving, which originates with Abraham Lincoln’s 1863 proclamation of a day of “Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father”, it’s not uncommon to go around the table before diving into the meal, each person mentioning what they’re thankful for. It’s a natural invitation to tell a story, invariably one with a happy ending.

Then, there’s the turkey, which – dry, bland, and beige as it is – is certainly the least exciting part of the meal. Hence the glorious side dishes: Brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes, stuffing, gravy, carrots, mashed potatoes, cornbread, biscuits, pumpkin pie, pecan pie… You get the idea.

But the turkey has had at least one prominent supporter. In a letter to his daughter, Benjamin Franklin bemoaned the choice of the bald eagle as the national bird of the US. “He is a Bird of bad moral Character”, he wrote. “He does not get his Living honestly”.

“The turkey, by contrast, is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America… He is besides, though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on.”

Now, let’s go watch some football.

Feeling like a number?

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

There seem to be many consultancies and operational experts who take the view that businesses function purely as systems. To improve the business, the logic goes, you must make the system more efficient. Cut out waste, grease the cogs, make everything more predictable.

Efficiency certainly has its place, but I wonder whether the days when businesses could get a clear competitive edge through operational improvements alone are behind us.

Take the example of Ford Motor Company. It made radical innovations in vehicle assembly, which put it far ahead of its competitors. But businesses now operate on a much more level playing field – with similar rules, market access, products and methodologies.

These shifts that have taken place allow us to see the roles of people and the roles of business systems as separate but complementary. Systems and technology have freed people from tasks related to implementing the system, allowing them instead to refocus their efforts on creating valuable experiences for customers. The question shouldn’t be ‘How can humans compete with robots?’ but rather ‘How can we quit trying to make humans and robots share the same roles?’ What seems to allow a business to distinguish itself from competitors today is its degree of human engagement – the extent to which people apply their own discretionary effort to the needs of the business.

For most companies in the globalised economy of the 21st century, drawing out the ingenuity held within their people should be a core leadership priority. The clients whom we’ve helped to achieve the greatest success in fostering behaviour change have been those who understand this approach, and who are willing to invest in their people in order to stimulate their discretionary effort and willingness to change. This cannot happen when employees feel their jobs are just one technological advance away from redundancy. We are approached by many organisations facing acute change challenges that they know revolve around the engagement of their people in strategic change – and not just in improving systems.

Philae needs a hero

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

The news that we have landed a probe called Philae on a comet called 67P is breathtaking. And the probe was launched, on its 4-billion mile journey, a full 10 years ago. (The office-wall list of “things we forgot to pack” must have been fascinating and long.)

But scientific exploits always lack the attention they truly deserve. And there is one very good reason for that – they just don’t mean anything…

Hear me out. As an engineer myself, I am confident in arguing that the world we enjoy today is built to an overwhelming degree on the back of humanity’s accumulated scientific knowledge – structures, laws of motion, hygiene and, you know, computers. But why aren’t people generally a little more moved by news of events that may further enhance the lives we live?

The answer lies in the way the stories are told. Stories of scientific breakthroughs suffer by their very nature – they contain facts that we probably can’t yet relate to.

To help us make sense of them, great stories put a protagonist at the heart of the matter, and we judge the protagonist’s reactions and experiences in order to understand the story on our own terms.

So, next time you put a satellite on a comet and you want people to pay attention, think about sending someone up there too. And give the mission an objective we can relate to. Say, the comet contains some natural resource that’s running low back on Earth. And our hero is the only man who can tap that resource. Also, bring in a bit of everyday human drama… say, the hero’s protégé is making a move on his daughter. You could make the whole thing into a film and get the daughter’s dad’s band to do the soundtrack.

I think that would get people’s attention.

“Showing our guests that we care”

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

It’s no great revelation to say that storytelling forms an essential part of who we are, but the role stories play in an institutional setting is only beginning to be understood. Stories are not just a form of communication. As important as such issues as strategy, performance and market placement are, human engagement – the stories of change, empathy, human endeavour and success – plays a vital role in fortunes of the business. These are the stories that engage, motivate and inspire people, and will help create a powerful emotional connection to the business and the journey it’s on. And with emotional connection comes fertile ground for improvement and change.

A great example of this emotional connection played out at a leadership conference we once organised for a global hotel brand. To illustrate one of its strategic priorities — “showing our guests that we care” — one of the delegates, the general manager of a hotel branch, stood up and shared a story. He recalled a time when a father and his sick son were visiting his hotel. They were popular regulars, as the medical centre treating his son was nearby. The night before the son’s chemotherapy began, his father explained to the restaurant staff that his son had decided to shave his head from the outset. And to support him, his father had decided to follow suit.

His request to the head waiter was that when they appeared the following morning for breakfast, that the wait staff didn’t pass comment or react openly to their shaved heads, for fear of embarrassing his son at what was to be the start of a very challenging period of his life.

When they arrived for breakfast, nobody in the room batted an eyelid nor said a word. Four of the waiters, however, had shaved their heads too. Needless to say, many people in that conference were reduced to tears of both pride and empathy as the story was told, and the story is still being told in the organisation to reinforce the fact that they care. And that’s what caring for guests looks and feels like.

The beauty of restrictions

Posted on by Nailia Tasseel

Professor Brian Cox, in his latest enthusiastic TV series The Human Universe, used an analogy for rules which really resonated with me in my galaxy of design.

He starts off by illustrating that the rules we currently know of the universe, and of Einstein’s theory of relativity—despite being highly complex—can be written on a single side of an A4 sheet of paper. He then goes on to use the wonderfully sedate world of cricket to show that despite the sport’s having a massive rule book, the game can still have infinitely different outcomes in each match. The rules allow for different outcomes depending on weather, energy levels of the bowler, the length of grass, etc. — all before even considering team strategy.

This got me excited and reminded me of why design is one of a myriad number of professions where restrictions don’t necessarily inhibit progressions. In other words, the existence of rules and complexity allows for greater flexibility and uniqueness. The more restrictions you have, the more you are pushed into thinking more creatively, and the outcome can be incredibly invigorating.

Tony Brook from Spin writes in the book Type Plus that “creativity always has and always will evolve, each era finding its own archetypal visual language. For me the most interesting aspect of such developments historically is when they are first being formed and the clichés, or accepted norms haven’t yet set in.”

After hundreds of years of using the same 26 letters, we are still experimenting with them and eking out more and more ways of working with these letter forms — which can still excite a seasoned world-leading designer in the form of Tony Brook.

Later in the book, esteemed graphic designer and typography writer Yves Peters reminds me of a story I once came across about Dutch typeface designer Gerard Unger. He once proclaimed that “a word is worth a thousand images”. By way of example, he said that you could describe the entire canine subspecies – including all the hundreds of distinctive breeds – with three letters: D, O and G. This is such an incredibly succinct and more efficient way to evoke all these images than, say, setting up a photo shoot with the entire cast of Crufts or commissioning an illustrator to draw fur upon fur for days on end.

When you look at world of type design, reminding yourself of the restrictions of 26 letters, this is where each and every typeface can really revel in its own identity and form its own personality. An effective typeface contributes to the context in which it sits and creates a really exciting and relevant piece of communication.