As I strolled out this morning into my new leafy Bristol hood of wide roads, whistling milkmen and gorgous autumnal palettes, I took a little mo’ to mourn the end of the Brand podcast but also to think back to this time a year ago. Beyond me milky, wispy clouds streamed across a pure blue sky, the squirrels chatted and the magpies nodded their approval and I felt that little kick of adrenalin I now feel in the mornings, well slept, unhurried and knowing how my short stroll into work seems to become more immeasurably beautiful every day. As happens most mornings, I exchanged my hellos with the blind lady who I pass on the curve of the hill, just before the steady decline allows me to take in the Avon panorama. I wish she could see it too, but there is something in her hello which tells me she has.
I’m heading into an office where people take time to talk and understand each other, and, steady now, even enjoy each others’ company. Pressure is evenly distributed and shared, and managers actually have time to manage in the true sense. Issues are raised, discussed and solutions found, quickly but without the sense of panic that comes from endemic fingerpointing cultures to be found elsewhere. People understand, and more importantly, believe in their common goal as well as retaining their energy, commitment and creativity. An authentic office team spirit, who would have thought it?
Contrast this to London mornings of a year ago, mornings of sullen faces, stuffy hot air in enclosed spaces, a 2 mile journey somehow managing to take 65 minutes, people snapping at each other over the turn of a newspaper page, busdrivers wordlessly leaving you dampening in the grey drizzle, arriving in an office where the time/work/quality equation is never going to quite add up, where people are passing ships in the night and where you are just a face in the crowd.
And I think, well done, my son.
