Goofy Gophers on the Bruckner.

I like to do something very few other people like to do.

In fact, some people are downright terrified of it.

I like to drive in New York City.

The more cockeyed the roads, the more mayhem created by Robert Moses, the more chaos spurred by New York's millions of unlicensed, untrained and uncaring drivers, the better I like it.

The reason for this masochism is simple.

I think in about 99-percent of our lives we're meant to be as acceptably bland and beige as easy-listening music. No beat. Not attitude. No highs. No lows. Just go with the flow and try not to wake anyone.

At Ogilvy, they had a statement on 360-review forms that I remember.

They asked you to appraise people at work based on whether or not you considered them "collaborative bridge-builders." I haven't seen that form for a decade or so, but "collaborative bridge-builders" is a description I won't soon forget. It's roughly the role mayonnaise plays between Wonder white bread and pimento loaf.

I sat with the great Chris Wall in an HR meeting once. We were charged with creating a review form that would work for the creative department. A lot of HR people threw out a lot of pablum. Finally, Chris, all 6'10" of him stood up.

"Look," he growled. Chris could growl like a Norse god. His voice became phlegmy and thunderous. It vibrated like a catgut string on a cello playing bass notes. "There's one way to judge a creative. It's Friday night. The pitch is Monday. Do you want them in on the weekend?"

Driving in New York for me is that heated. There's no niceness and cooperation and getting along. There's no nice for nice sake. 

There's a Newtonian aspect to it all.

Two vehicles want to occupy the same space. 

Only one can.

So, you learn to drive like a New Yorker. 

A little sharper. With longer-range vision. A way of reading the other guy. And seeing openings. 

To drive like a New Yorker, sometimes you have to be a mean fucker. When two lanes are turning into one, it's you against the world. You don't look. You don't hesitate. You don't brake or back down. You New York the fuck out of things.

You muscle the other fellow out of the way.

This isn't a knife-fight. It's a test. Who will win. And who won't. Mostly, who has TWTW--The Will to Win.

I think along the way, I don't know why, we've forgotten that there's a survival aspect to work.

One team will get the spot.

One person will get the raise, be made SVP, get the bonus.

It's usually the person who knows how to drive in New York. They're not necessarily a bastard. But they have sharp elbows and they'll use them when they have to.

Successful companies, actors, artists, comedians, politicians, and countries work this way. Animals in the wild do too. There's not a whole lot of goofy gophers politesse happening on the Veldt.

I'll probably get a lot of rebuke for this post. 

We're all supposed to smile now and recognize that a good idea, a mediocre idea, and a bad idea can come from anywhere. And we welcome participation. Not hurting anyone's feelings is what too much of work is like now. 

I'm not about being a bastard. But I want to win.

So. 

You'll have to fight me for it.