Advice for a Better.

I have an issue with generosity.

I had such an empty childhood, I was so starved of love and attention, and praise and kindness, that now, about 20 years into dotage,I still feel that deprivation almost every day.

Who wouldn't.

As compensation, I am generous to others. With my close family--with money and love. With many others, with time and listening.

I hope to fill my internal void through the filling of others' voids.

That exchange never works out, really.

Because my lacks (and therefore needs) aren't other peoples'.

Nonetheless.

You do.

You help work friends.

You write book blurbs.

You advise people if they need advice.

You talk to them about business--even send the leads,

if something appropriate comes across your desk that

might not be right for you.

About twenty years ago, 

my wife traveled a lot for business.

Her major account was in California,

and she was out with her clients about twice a month.

Or more.

My wife is short. 

(Borscht Belt interlude: Life is short and so is wife.)

And would never be accused of under-packing.

I imagined her like Sisyphus, 

trying to muscle her Tumi rollerbag up into the overhead.

I was flying a fair amount in those days too.

When I saw someone struggling with their bag

I made it a habit to pop up and help them.

I am large of size and long of muscle.

And too mean to say I can't.

I know you can't count on karma.

What goes around doesn't always come around.

Bad things happen to good people.

But.

Kindness.

Not as an add on.

Not as a sometimes.

As a who you are.

That's a way of living.

That's a way of being.

That's a who you are.

Helping kids break in.

Helping clients in a jam.

Being there with ideas.

Being there with pain-in-the-ass-ideas

that maybe they'd never buy but will now

because they're in a jam.

Here's an example.

A tech client was having a trade show.

They called me for posters about eight hours before they had to print them.

"If you don't have them by 5, don't bother." That kind of thing.

I had talked to the clients--who over the course of year--

had become friends, about the fun and vitality of old Burma Shave sequential road signs.

In short order these were up at their event.

(Art-directed. These are screengrabs from my manuscript copy.)

In each case, #5 was their logo.

This isn't about the creative.

This is about coming through in a crunch.

Being generous with your mind,

your references,

your energy.

Your confidence that no matter what you can what.

This is about getting last minute assignments, with no brief, no scope and no time.

And no complaint.

And doing it.

Coming through.

And trusting that your client will come through, in turn, for you. Or some client will because you've put enough good into the world.

Long ago Steve Hayden turned a client over to me. I still work with them almost seven years later.

One afternoon, Steve called me and asked how it was going.

I answered, "He just called me up for help writing a eulogy."

Steve said, "I'd say that's pretty good."

Somewhere along the way we went from serving our clients to serving ourselves, our egos and our corporate overlords. 

We forgot that the greatest emanation is to be the first call a client makes when they're up a tree without a paddle. 

Don't call McKinsey.

Call McGeorgie.

It takes a lot of coming through, a lot of unpaid sweat to earn that position.

I'm sure the aforementioned McKinsey would say the KPIs and ROIs and WTFs of generosity are all not properly metric-able.

Neither is 'do unto others.'

But there's gold in that there rule.