Advisory Notes: Collaboration
Essays on creative leadership, culture, and the human side of work
Warm, soft rain.
Just enough to require a light jacket and hat for the dash to the café.
The café where, with coffee, muffin and laptop, I’ll snuggle in to write, people watch and consider.
I sit down to type.
A guy sitting across is deep into his phone when he’s interrupted with: “Hey Dan, it’s been ages…”
Dan, annoyed for the briefest moment, extends his hand with, “How’s it going Tommy?”
Tommy pulls out a chair — I note he hasn’t asked — and responds with, “We hit the paper today. Great coverage, better than I’d hoped.”
“Oh yeah, is it the battery project? What’s the latest?”
Just then a woman balancing two coffees and a large bag enters with, “Tommy, Dan, I didn’t know you were working together…”
“We’re not.” This from Dan, as she puts the coffees down and says, “We’re going to need a bigger table. Karis is joining me.”
Now Dan has the I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening face, but he stands, scans the room, pulls his jacket off his chair back and moves to the long, empty communal table.
The group follows.
I type a bit, wanting to catch all of this. Not wanting to seem like I’m eavesdropping. Try to be small.
A second woman enters with pastries. Must be Karis.
“Oh, I didn’t know you’d invited a group, Sarah.”
“I didn’t.”
Dan is smiling as he stands and gives Karis a hug. Things must be looking up for Dan.
Karis, glancing around: “I’ll get some more pastries.”
Tommy: “Not for me. Did you see the piece on our deal this morning?”
Tommy looks like the youngest in the group, maybe late twenties. Clearly on fire with what’s happened and the publicity.
“Well,” Sarah says, leaning back into a long pause that gets them all to turn to her. “Well.”
I note that the space is filling, the clatter from the kitchen is louder, and hope with the noise I’ll still be able to follow.
Sarah’s “well” is followed by a description of a couple of short films created to promote natural products — one a fashion brand, the other a perfume. In both, the story and footage feel natural, soft like spring growth, and very human. She emphasizes the humanness repeatedly. Her hands gesturing, occasionally touching Tommy’s shoulder.
“It’s the human touch that brings it alive. That makes us feel the sensation of being.”
Pulling out her laptop: “Take a look.”
I’m desperate to see, but can’t. Don’t want to break the spell.
Sound must be low. They all lean in to Sarah’s screen, watching silently.
“Tommy, when I saw your piece this morning I called Karis to see if she was up for pitching you. And here you are. So — no rehearsal, we’re into it now. Karis? You up for this?”
“Let’s see what Tommy thinks.” Karis, the sensible one.
Tommy looks thoughtful.
Dan asks, “How did they get the actors to seem so natural?”
“They aren’t actors. They’re just teens — talented teens, but just kids in their element.”
Tommy asks, “What do pieces like this cost?”
They all look at Karis.
I checked the time. Gotta go.
I stood, put on my jacket, slipped my laptop into its bag, slung it over my shoulder and bussed my cup and plate, remembering all the business breaks I got from collaborations.