Tag: work

Where I’m @ with location.

A less waffly version of these thought crumbs features on the Outside Line blog

I check in regularly via Foursquare which updates my Twitter feed. I find it a quick and useful way to share somewhere interesting I’ve attended with my real life friends that I chat with via tweets. I favour Foursquare and its automatic updates to Twitter rather than Facebook Places and updates to my profile’s wall because I like the light entertainment of badges and points, find my iPhone’s Facebook app a little unwelcoming and occasionally enjoy browsing Foursquare’s user generated tips.

You wont see me shouting about being at the local takeaway in the early hours or sitting on a park bench, but you’ll find me putting my virtual flag in the digital ground of interesting gigs, museums and great restaurants or bars. When I get back into work after the weekend or catch up in person with friends that follow me online, location has proved to be a catalyst for conversation. ‘I saw you checked out that new bar the other night…’, ‘How was that new band you watched?’ and so on. Cynics will challenge the benefit of that over just starting a conversation from scratch in person and have a point, but they’re also some of the same people who said Facebook status updates would never take off and were pointless because people like being private and wont feel inclined to broadcast their thoughts.

Ultimately, social media activity’s often about showing off. People using location treat it as another outlet to present themselves through in a way they’d like to be seen. I want people to see that I went to a Rakim show this month so they associate me a little more with decent, historic rap music and knowledge. So I checked in at the gig. I don’t want people to know I munched through an all you can eat buffet at Pizza Hut because I’’m a bit ashamed and would rather people not know I’m unhealthy and live off grease from time to time. So the phone stayed in my pocket.

In terms of what location can offer brands, I think this will increase with time and new developments in tools and functionality. At the moment, location’s a fairly separate aspect to social media activity, homed in its entirety on a lone platform (Foursquare) or a little hidden in iPhone app tabs and busy news feeds (Facebook Places). If Facebook were to put a leader board at the top of every user’s profile page showing the places they’ve visited the most or most recently, there would suddenly be a permanent, prominent place for a brand’s name to be championed to a user’s private network. I think that’s when critical mass will pick up location more and people’s inclination to check in at locations will increase. Then brands can start promoting themselves to more people at a louder volume.

Someone I’ve been seeing.

She’s a rosy lady with glasses,
usually wrapped in floral dress,
news clenched in a firm hand,
a swinging bag over an arm.

With an air of Jane Austin,
regimental routine announces her,
two seconds short of the train,
perfect platform position each time.

Every morning she boards first,
however early I begin waiting,
too tall to provide eye contact
and quickest to rare empty seats.

I used to stand shooting daggers,
now blunt with resignation,
too proud to respect her order,
not strong enough to admit defeat.

Fertile Baguette quarter four pitches.

At 11pm on Saturday night in the bushes of Soho Square, freelance journalist Gordon Edwards searched for his family’s missing guinea pig. Whilst he didn’t return Lineker to his wife’s and children’s suburban detached home in Hadley, he did arrive with a muddy iPad that on powering up, appeared to be from Electronic Life Aids (EMA) magazine’s Top 100 listed agency Fertile Baguette.

What follows are extracts from the social media plans for their client base. Gordon Edwards, having amassed a portfolio of this one investigation, intends to return to his life long occupation as officer to the 1st Boys Brigade company of Hadley. He has only visited Soho once. Lineker was found dead in a crisp packet inside his briefcase.

British Pumps
Proposition: A Facebook application where users collect points by digging up virtual squares of Africa’s coast line. Reach: It will gain virality through letting players invite friends to catch oily zebras before CNN journalists arrive to expose the drilling. Projections: Higher engagement in oil wells with unemployed males, 18-24. Uplift in perceived entertainment within the sector.

Magical Meats
Purpose: To propel sales of the processed meat manufacturer’s new Glam product; tinned slices of luncheon meat cut into the shapes of ear rings, diamonds and pearl necklaces. Demographic: middle aged housewives and the children there of. Method: A campaign micro-site showcases a prominent gallery of photographs that a TV advert campaign from 3.30-4pm encourages people to submit photos of meat being magical to. Outcomes: Individuals in the photos become brand advocates, Glam is seen as an innovative and modern consumer choice. Magical Meats’ identity pillars gain sustainability. Contingency: A physical album of submitted photos is published with a forward by David Blaine about the power and mystery of meat. Photo subjects will crave ownership of their moments of fame, as will their friends and family, creating a new revenue stream altogether.

Going Faces
Objective: Re-launch the traditional travel agency as the one stop shop for tourists struggling in the current economic climate. Campaign elements: Paid for banners on Twitter superimpose profile pictures onto backdrops of sun and sand. On clicking, a micro-site launches allowing visitors to choose a destination, upload their photo and be e-mailed a zip folder of staged holiday snaps. Revenue stream: Visitors can purchase bolt on extras to their snaps such as incremental Photoshop tanning through photo collections. Customers can purchase iron on immigration and customs stamps to place on their passports.

Editor’s notes: When Gordon Edwards stumbled upon these findings, he printed off a hard copy. Whilst popping out for a stroll in Hadley Woods before we arrived to meet him, he dropped and lost much of the printed pitches and the iPad. He would welcome you continuing his investigation and hunting for the remaining papers. His accident occurred within the large bush 20 meters left of the oak tree. He also lost a sock. His wife doesn’t want him going for long walks anymore.

Sketches: Equality & Diversity Training

A man opens a door at the front of a meeting room, where sit fourteen employees looking up at a white projector blind. A stern lady sits at the front of the room behind a laptop which is broadcasting a cartoon onto the wall.

On one side of the screen, crowd together a family of otters. The other side sits a big, hairy seal. One by one, the otters run at the seal, trying to steal his colourful inflatable ball. The otters finally capture the ball and the seal sits, crying out loudly.

One of the otters takes pity and tells his crowd that they should return back the ball. The two sides gravitate towards each other with caution and the pitying otter passes the ball over. The seal is delighted and claps whilst keeping the ball afloat on his nose. The otters all dance around.

Will Smith’s ‘Just The Two Of Us’ begins to fade in as the otters and seal continue playing. The song fades out after three minutes at which point the otters and seal look head on at the audience.

The man looks back on the people in the room.

One lady looks towards the open door, taking a handkerchief to her watery eyes. An anxious man bites his nails, erratically tapping his foot.

The otters and seal sing the line ‘We can make it if we try’, taking each other’s hands as the screen fades to black.

The patient man looks to the laptop operator. Everyone waits to see what he wants.

‘Tallulah is running late. She rang and asked me to let you know.’

The man leaves the room and closes the door behind him whilst a new video begins playing. The weeping lady and fidgeting man sigh, looking back at the screen.

One black and one white gentleman stand at the door of a bus. They both gesture for the other to step onto the bus first. Neither move and the bus drives away. They hold hands and walk off into the sunset.

Sketches: Feedback

‘There you go.’ said Jane, placing her creation on the creative director’s desk.

‘Ah, right, thanks Jane.’ he replied, looking down from his computer screen at what she’d just handed in.

‘You’ve done well there. The shading looks good. It’s really well contained.’ he reviewed on.

‘Thanks. I wanted to avoid too much spillage so kept it a little short from full.’ explained Jane.

‘Great. One thing for next time. Can you add a little sugar?’

Almost here…

People, we have done it.

We’ve left our weekends of freedom and peace
and made it through Monday blues.

Thawing into the week, we’ve knuckled down to chores and challenges.

In an act of productivity, we’ve worked and worked our ways
through midweek slumps.

We’ve breezed through evenings of television,
food, conversation and sleep.

The majority of this seven day’s sluggish plights
through the tube are over.

It’s Thursday and the hard parts have ceased.

Few alarm clock sirens, chilling mornings
and depressing bowls of wheat in front of breakfast TV remain.

Omnibuses await.
Text messages, phone calls and preparations are stirring.
Bank balances are taking a deep breath of foresight.
Social diaries are being reviewed and arranged.

There will be no free newspapers tangled beneath your feet before long.
Your iron, biros, pads of paper, post it notes and decorum may calm.

Goodbye Bill Turnbill. Your jokes and the joke you are is going to sleep.
Hello Dermot, Steve Jones, lovers, friends, family and fun.

It’s almost time to pump your bicycle tires, ride the winds of obligation’s departure, stir fry a wok of dreams, bite into cheese on toast treats
and soak in your own filth whilst thinking nothing of it.

It’s Thursday. And your two days are almost here.

Pod Pickle

Every office has a Dolly Smith. You may be a few days into your new job and not be asked to execute brain achingly trivial tasks but believe me, every office has a Dolly Smith.

Just when you think you’re free from being subjected to ‘How do I play this .Doc format movie?’ or ‘I need to upload this web page in landscape’ or ‘Can you show me how to make the printer do a V Lookup?’ requests, she’ll be there.

She’ll be there with her contrived ‘If I talk like this your pity will give me what I need’ voice. You might even witness the long pauses of silence whilst damp hair is twiddled with around useless fingers and chewed up pencil tips.

You’ll stubborn it out for a bit whilst she floats over your shoulder as you try to climb into one of those grey squares on your screen but you’ll never win and she’ll always get what she wants.

You are not safe and you are not free, however far and wide you go to escape. Because every office has a Dolly Smith.

Away To Work

Walking through
a train’s tap worth of gazes –
some blurred, excited or plain,
going against the grain,
side steps and slides make it
to paper layered seats.

Feet rest whilst others dash
towards each carriage door,
garbage bags in hands
slowly bursting with used news
beneath automated directions
luring clusters on board.

Familiar refreshments girls
rattle cabinets of crumbs,
stretching lingering coffee clouds
above our half read novels,
ear plugs of tinny thumps
or business calls, too early and loud.

Rhythmic churns fade to halt
for the face off between glass,
both sides drumming ‘open’
ahead of the static freeze
before silent passing bys
sandwiched by destinations torn.

Duck Envy

it’s not even about the freedom
or else i’d spite the sparrows wings.
i just want to float, away from
payment procedures, data analysis –
tap, tap, tap.

when did it have to be hard work
to put one foot in front of the other,
open doors, fill kettles, destroying
any burning interest of the heart?

let me balance on gentle tides,
watch the boats and tourists
walk the bridge of horizon
and details swallowing lives.

yes, i’m happy to drift
in winds and chills if i must.
at least i’d have summer on the
reverse of office walls.

That Friday Feeling

Sitting at my internal window,
curd muffin crumbs crowding my lap,
sleepy slug fairies snooze on each eye brow
as fingers layer typing symphonies,
phones burping out cold calls and
paper humming beneath jet inked thoughts
in the creaky, carpeted corridor
between shifts and the swift outdoor breeze.