Comfortable Disorientation

Red Thread

One of the best things about working at Spinach is spending time in our wonderful office space. It was designed specifically with the kind of work we do in mind. We're spoilt by lots of space, flooded in natural light and have an open, flexible space which includes more social areas as well as cubby holes and hideaways. We hot-desk, so each day you can choose to your seat to fit your mood and/or tasks for the day.

We also have a rotating art program. Every 2-3 months Martin, our creativity director selects work from different artists that he thinks will inspire and provoke us in different ways. Not so long ago, Lauren met Martin when she came to meet me for lunch, I left them chatting for a while and gather there was something of a meeting of minds. The result - and I couldn't be more excited about this - is that Lauren is going to be the next artist showing at Spinach. Better still, it's the first piece of work that will be specially developed for the space and she will be installing it live as we work (I say we, but I'm going to miss it because I'll be in the US - boo!).

Anyway, it struck me that some people reading this might like to come along and see it. We're going to have a little gathering at the office on the 9th of August - drop me or Martin a line if you think you'd like to come along...

Selling cars

A very good friend of mine makes a living selling cars. Unlike the gentleman pictured above, the vehicles he flogs tend to be brand new.

Until recently my friend sold luxury cars in Mayfair. I use the word 'sold', but aggressive selling had little really to do with it. The manufacturer reputation meant the cars sold themselves and the location of the showroom meant that the clientele were generally of the type that they knew what they wanted (it wasn't unheard of for someone to walk in off the street on a whim, and leave having ordered an extremely expensive car to be paid for in cash). The salesman's job was to take orders and provide the sense of service that the customers expect.

I've never seen my friend at work, but I've always imagined that he was excellent at his job. There's something luxurious and princely about him and I can picture him pouring his customers smoothly into the car, while making them feel that the vehicle is just worthy of them.

These days he sells Audis in Cambridge. He still doesn't feel that his job involves 'selliing' the car, by and large people make up their own minds. The key difference versus his Mayfair job is that the punters have more time and want to get a deal. He finds this more fun, it's a game that requires strategy and cunning manouvers. People are less concerned with how much they actually pay - having already accepted the ballpark price in the decision making process - and more concerned with walking away with a feeling that they've made a successful negotiation without getting had.

Contradicting beliefs

"Like the punters out there, she could entertain simultaneously any number of conflicting opinions. They could believe in Al, and not believe in her, both at once. Faced with the impossible, their minds, like Colette's, simply scuttled off in another direction"

From Beyond Black by Hilary Mantel

I vividly remember the moment when I first articulated to myself the realisation that it is perfectly possible for people to hold two entirely contradicting beliefs at the same time. It was a pivotal moment, it meant I could stop worrying about people not making sense and take delight in the wonderful muddle of human nature.

One of my favourite research tasks is being asked to unpick people's beliefs about a certain issue. Particularly so-called 'low-involvement' subjects, where few have consciously examined their attitudes and beliefs. It's not uncommon to discover deep rooted contradictions that are so paradoxical that they have an almost beautiful symmetry.

A virtual postcard

We reckon we have the best of the UK's weather this week. Nevertheless we're wearing jumpers and waterproofs as we sit on a bench watching and discussing the good patrons of this particular beach.  We're using terms like "determined fools" and "only the English", but our voices are filled with a sense of admiration and pride.

We're taking bets on the short-term for cast.  Matt's convinced rain is imminent and points to a forbidding patch of sky out to sea. I refuse to believe that the rain is heading in-land, and am keeping the faith for sunshine. 

Those on the beach don't seem so optimistic. The human tide is heading our way, all at once - or so it seems - people are rushing to pack up.  We're impressed at how efficiently the large group packs up the four-windbreak fortress that surrounds them, we can't help but imagine a somewhat militant patriarch is overseeing the task.  Those with the trendy semicircular half-tent type things appear much less smug The pole-wobbling disassembly process looks amateur and dreadfully inelegant. For some reason this gives us a vicarious sense of satisfaction on behalf of the old-school upholders. 

And why are all windbreaks blue and yellow these days? We're sure they came in a more joyful variety of colours when we were kids.