What I'd do about a kai

My bike got nicked a few weeks ago, which was a bit annoying. I did hope that whoever took it needed it more than I did, and I needed it quite a bit. They nicked my helmet as well, so nice to see health and safety messaging having a positive effect.

It also had a flat tyre that needed inflating every couple of rides, which might not have provided a total upper body workout, but it didn’t hurt. So when the inevitable recession was finally announced I was reminded these are desperate times.

“Thank God,” said Tina on hearing the news - about the recession, not the bike - explaining, “if it’s here, we can climb out of it.” She was right of course; her optimism was like knowing we’re heading into summer immediately after the shortest day, even though it’s still really bloody freezing for months.

Maybe times weren’t so desperate after all.

The language was a bit more colourful; she’d just lost most of her crop and fencing when Cyclone Gabrielle took them out to sea, but her farmer’s determination remained. Bruised but not broken. Climbing out of anything requires momentum. Momentum requires a catalyst and that’s what ideas are for.

Thinking our way out of things seemed like a good subject to write about and besides I had plenty of ideas lying about. Some, with good reason should probably be left lying about, but you can make your own mind up.

I liked the idea from Te Pāti Māori of removing GST from food. It’s good for everyone and because of that helps demonstrate Te Pāti Māori leadership. Their president John Tamihere had made the astute observation of how a growing tribe of largely younger voters make decisions based on conduct and character not skin colour.

Te Pāti Māori have a huge opportunity to woo voters of any ethnicity, but because their focus has been on winning Māori seats, I wondered how many pakeha knew they could give Te Pāti Māori their party vote, and so I sent John this thought, ‘anyone can vote for common sense.’

Photos by Olena Sergienko & Vicky Hladynets on Unsplash. Poster design by Georgia.

Te Pāti Māori policy must be upsetting someone’s polling data, because by the look of it, the pushback has already started.

The article did get me thinking that maybe an even bolder idea was in order. An idea to help address a whole lot of problems.

So here’s one I prepared earlier:

Let’s start with food waste.

If food waste were a country it would be the third largest carbon emitter in the world, said a 2013 UN report. Approximately 30 - 40% of food is wasted across the supply chain. In New Zealand we threw away $2.4 billion of food in 2021. I expect we’re not throwing away as much these days, but still.

Another problem; 32% of New Zealanders are obese and another 34% overweight. The index is far greater against Maori and Pacific Islanders. In 2021 the Sapere Research Group estimated the direct cost to our health system at two billion a year.

The biggie is child poverty. It costs NZ an estimated $10b per year. - John Pearce, Analytica, 2012. Of that total $3.5 - 4b was estimated to be the cost to the health system.

It’s quite hard to get an accurate fix on this one, but in the 2020 budget the Government set aside $22.1 million just to improve the measurement of child poverty. To be fair, this was down from the 25 mil that was set aside to measure it - incorrectly it would appear - two years earlier.

Food insecurity is a result of poverty, and equality lurks not far behind. According to a recent article, living costs have risen over 18% in the last seven years for households getting some sort of benefit. But only 13% in homes that aren’t. As usual, not everyone’s taking the same hit.

Joining all of this together is food. More specifically diet. When I wrote this, a loaf of white bread was $1.19 at Pak‘n’Save. “A good diet costs a lot,” observes nutrition expert Professor Elaine Rush in the same article.

To to help fix all of these problems; food waste, obesity, and child poverty, you’d simply just have to get everyone eating exactly the same thing.

A controlled diet, to be blunt. Which is of course impossible because who would agree to it? Or follow it.

Oh wait, that’s right, we’re already doing it.

Each week tens of thousands of New Zealand families pay for fresh food in a box - a controlled diet - to be delivered from My Food Bag, Hello Fresh and others, proving it’s not only possible for people to eat the same food, done properly it’s actually highly desirable. I can’t imagine anyone’s ever been embarrassed by a Hello Fresh delivery.

The MSD have already trialled My Food Bag for Emergency Food grants, but since ‘emergency’ and ‘food’, are words that shouldn’t be used so closely together, just give a Food Box to everyone that wants one. Every week.

‘Are you mad? What about the cost?’

Glad you asked. The cost to feed 1.85 million households, five meals per week, with an average of three people per household, is $9.6 billion a year. And that’s at retail, $100 per food box, with no allowance for efficiencies of massive scale.

The challenge is how to pay for it all without any tax increase, as you can’t just find 10 billion down in between the couch cushions. Well, actually you can, as this chart from Treasury quite clearly shows. Look at the second largest item.

Source: Stuff / NZ Treasury

No functional classification, 33 billion dollars.

Huh?

That’s right, 33 billion. On something that doesn’t even have a name, and clearly serves no purpose at all. Everything else looks pretty reasonable. Health, social welfare, defence, police. It’s all there. There’s $14b set aside for ‘other economic’ activity. It’s a decent chunk of wedge which I assume includes things like tourism, but again, how would you know?

There’s enough detail to mention spending $411 million on ‘fuel and energy’, but I’m none the wiser as to ‘energy’ meaning the power bill, or a whole lot of Peanut Slabs someone’s racked up on the parliamentary Z petrol card.

There’s even a lazy $435m allocated to ‘other’. As dear Squeeze would’ve said: “Matey, you can almost do something with that.”

‘No functional classification’ is just Wellington for ‘stuff’ and at the very least it’s a line item that could stand a bit more scrutiny. To paraphrase Alexander Skarsgard’s Lukas Matsson character: “We need to get in there and cut shit close to the bone.” This is about spending less money not more.

Food waste, obesity and child poverty are problems that cost taxpayers about $14 billion a year, give or take. Which is quite a lot more than 9.6 billion. Sure, it’s not that simple, but isn’t it? Prevention is always cheaper than repair.

Once you’ve dipped into the ‘no functional classification’ fund and found the money, you’d have to market the idea quite cleverly. But hey, with ‘free food’ or ‘controlled diet’ as messages, there’s something for everyone. The good news is the Government has way, way more comms people than the country has journalists, so time for the dark artists of the Terrace to get to work.

Supermarkets will take a hit. Or they won’t, and become part of the distribution pipe instead. Or, they get out in front and lead the charge. Any loss of employment would be absorbed by the creation of s new supply chain. Insist on the idea being a sustainable, ethical way to support our local food producers. B Corp it up the wahzoo.

Maybe the Food Box won’t be revenue neutral, but it certainly won’t ‘cost’ anywhere near $9.6 billion either. Maybe we’d have less domestic violence because there’s less worry about how to feed the family. Maybe there’d be less anxiety, and increased productivity from not having to waste time working out where the next meal might be coming from.

Maybe fewer bikes will get nicked. The butterfly effect and all that.

Some people hate this, no surprises there. You can always find a reason not to do something, especially if you put some effort in. Others are more positive.

It’s all good either way. Debate is healthy and we need more of it. They’re just ideas after all, nothing to be afraid of. Sooner or later one comes along that gives us the momentum we need.

It’s how we climb out.

Forever-ish content

I’d only just posted about delving back into the past, when Geoff came through and reminded me about a post that I had written a couple of years ago - ‘Forever Content’. Geoff reckoned it had made him laugh out loud, but couldn’t find it, and he encouraged me to repost ‘for my fan club’.

I don’t know about having a fan club, but I was once chased by a man who’d caught my brother and I nicking plums from his tree, although I’m pretty sure that’s not the same thing. However given Geoff is as sharp as creases and had built a successful career on giving smart advice it was sensible to follow it.

It turned out the post was on a different site altogether and as I could barely manage one website, two seemed to be just silly. The work he liked now has a new home.

The real reason though, was that the content idea I had never really fired and I’d moved on. If I’m honest, this was down to me not trying hard enough. But I’d promised to update you either way, and I hadn’t, which was hardly in the spirit of telling the bad with the good, so here we are. On a re-read it seems I was right about one thing - nothing was going according to plan.

Funnily enough, I’d been asked to make a piece of what I’d called ‘forever content’ only a couple of months ago. My friend Meg wanted a photo of her family, and there were six of them. They’d never had one taken since the kids had grown up with kids of their own, so it was quite a big deal.

Six is quite a crowd when it comes to a photo. Like a marketing manager using Canva, and other silly things that shouldn’t be allowed, I turned to Annie Liebovitz’s Vanity Fair work for inspiration. There’s a painterly quality to her group shots and plenty of online tutorials about how to achieve the look. Well kinda.

I’d also stupidly told Meg what I was aiming for, destroying any opportunity to under promise and over deliver later on.

One of Annie’s most famous shots is a VF cover of a naked and pregnant Demi Moore, of which Annie observed; “If it were a great portrait, she wouldn’t be covering her breasts. She wouldn’t necessarily be looking at the camera.” Even if there wasn’t any nudity planned for Meg’s work, I worried that I’d set the bar way way too high.

I had discovered that Annie’s even lighting effect and no lens distortion is largely what makes her photographs painterly, and is achieved by compositing. I roped my daughter Georgia into this role, grabbed a couple of lights from Gilly, and arranged to meet Meg and the whanau at Frimley Park just before magic hour.

To do the compositing requires the photographer to be technically proficient, patient and follow the rules. I’m none of these. You need a clean background plate and even lighting. Each shot needs to be taken along the same plane. No colouring outside the lines in other words.

I didn’t even come close.

Georgia saved the day, skilfully blending eight different, in some cases very different, shots together. I’d learnt a couple of valuable lessons, the most important was don’t rush things, oh and just because you can fix it in post doesn’t mean you should. While her wizardry made up for most of my technical missteps, it would have been a complete ‘mare to pull together. Graciously she’s never bought it up and we’re still on speaking terms. All is well.

Meg was happy, her Mum and Dad were chuffed and the end result was swiftly dispatched to the printer, although probably no need to bother Annie with it.

That’s the update, it took a little longer than expected, but that in itself reminded me of a letter I once received from Sue Bradford that opened with ‘I have delayed writing for as long as possible, so I could give you the most up to date information available.’ She what she did there? Genius.

Anyway, here’s the original. It’s for Geoff. And the fans.

Forever Content

A couple of weeks ago I was taking some photos of a young mum and her baby boy. I’ve been getting seriouser and seriouser about photography for 7 or 8 years now, and while there’s never any shortage of things for me to learn; or indeed a shortage of photographers, a couple of hours behind the lens reminded me just how much fun it was. 

”Shit”,  I thought to myself, “I wish I could do more of this’.  

It was after this shoot that I decided to get behind the camera more often.

As it turned out, I was having a gap year, and therefore quite available, and so, here we are.   

I’ve always loved writing stories and now I’ll be telling them with pictures too. I love showing people a side of themselves they might only rarely get to see.

I’m going to focus on making what you could call ‘forever’ content. Sure, the name’s a bit shit, but the idea is solid. It’s simply pictures that because they make you feel good, you might just want to see more than once. 

Here’s some I prepared earlier.

It’s content designed to last, and be read and viewed over and over, just like in the olden days. Images and yarns that we might take a little more time crafting, because they’ll be all the better for it.

It might be a bespoke coffee table book about your business perhaps. Or your home, or farm. Maybe a short film. A celebration of an important anniversary or milestone. A gift for overseas clients. Framed portraits for Father’s Day. Or maybe a documentary film of a family gathering. 

Coffee-table books for your family. Or your brand. For a gift. To make a statement. Not only are they special, they’re great fun to do. ‘The Italian Blog’ (Blurb, hardcover, 128 pages) was for the amusement of friends. Check it out here.

You get the picture.

At least that’s the plan. Mind you I’m struggling to think of anything I’ve done that’s gone to plan, so as I watch my comfort zone disappear behind me, who knows what will happen.

But when it does, I’ll be sure to write about it here.  

And then we can all laugh about it together.

How to smarten up old chops.

I’ve always liked this phrase to describe a freshen up. I’m not sure where it really came from, but I first heard it from my friend Tina, who got it out of her mother Jo’s CWI cookbook from the chapter on ‘mutton’ in the ‘leftovers’ section.

It’s arguably more poetic than ‘new-ish website here.’ Although since ‘smartening up’ involved dousing the chops liberally in vinegar, maybe only just.

Anyhoo, prior to Covid putting the skids under so many things, I was doing a job with Greg Partington. He’d just bought the rest of his company back from Head Office and was keen to open up the throttle. Greg can be demanding and a ‘hard marker’ - but mainly on himself.

He wanted a campaign for the new company ‘Stanley St’ and we had settled on doing a series of candid interviews with his people that would run in Air New Zealand’s ‘Kia Ora’ magazine.

One thing we quickly agreed on was that ‘storyteller’ was a well overused term, ever since it had been kidnapped by people in marketing.

Stories have twists and turns, mood and details, characters you want to slap, and those you root for. The good ones have nuance and aim, vulnerability and charm. Of course so do the best ads, but contrary to what that insta tutorial has told you, writing copy doesn’t automatically mean you’ve written a story, least of all a good one.

I know this because I’m guilty too, having hastily written a shopping list more than once or twice. I’m trying harder.

It’s all well and good giving advice, my problem is following it. But as I rambled my way around Squarespace, I realised that behind my own work there was often an interesting backstory.

I’ve tried to tell things as they were, although I’m sure, ‘recollections may vary.’ There’s been some wins, some hard yards, and I’ve also kicked some spectacular own goals along the way. It’s all a work in progress I reminded myself.

But be honest, the fails are more interesting aren’t they? The car crashes. Even the little ones, of which there are many. Like the time I was giving a presentation - back in the day to be sure, but coincidentally also with Greg - and the client, who was staring at my feet started laughing. Looking down to see what was so funny, I discovered I’d put on two very different shoes. The shared the same colour but that was about it.

“What?” I asked, with a shameless pivot to the front foot. “You’ve never been so focussed on a job that you’ve put on different shoes?”

Who could argue with that sort of commitment. Shameless or not.

It’s not all the mahi by a long shot, just the stuff I like and the stories I remember. Well most of them. I’ll add more here. I’d like to say regularly, but I history would suggest otherwise. I’m working on that too.

One thing for sure is, I’ve been fortunate to stand on the shoulders of many, many talented people along the way who have shown not only kindness but an extraordinary amount of patience.

They know who they are, now you can too. It’s their story as much as mine.

Enjoy the chops.

Rewiring Ourselves

“I don’t really want any more work, I don’t want people ringing me up” said Meg, explaining what she didn’t want her website to do.

You’ll never die wondering what Meg Rose is thinking.

“You’ve come to the right place” I reassured her, albeit somewhat puzzled by Meg’s desire to be on the interweb at all. We first met working on Kirsten’s Mayoral campaign a couple of years ago, and I’ve offered to help Meg build a website in return for some sensible advice she’d given me. We chat as I take her photograph.

“So what do you want it for?” I asked.

“World domination” said Meg in the blink of an eye and devoid of any irony.

It turns out Meg has big plans indeed. 

Invited by Hardin Tibbs, a futurist and scenario planner from the University of Cambridge, Meg has written an article for the World Futures Review on how she uses Hardin’s strategic landscape tool in her work. The tool was originally developed for use by large scale corporates and governments, so that they could change direction by learning to rewire themselves, but it was how Meg had adapted it for local use that caught Hardin’s eye. 

“I work with CEO’s, gang members, prisoners, and small businesses” says Meg, “one client said my work … hang on … “as she reads from a testimonial “ - helped him rewire himself’”.

“But yeah, no matter who it is, the conversation starts with the same two questions: what do you need and what could we do?” 

I was momentarily distracted, wondering if the CEO, gang member, prisoner and small business owner could possibly all be the same person, meanwhile Meg is patiently explaining her dream of scaling up those individual conversations so they are held by whanau, communities and Government.

“The real big picture,” says Meg, calmly outlining her plan to rewire our most fundamental systems, “is to fuse the strategic landscape tool with the work Sir Tim Berners-Lee is doing on an alternate world wide web. The good web.”

Well, yes, of course it is I’m thinking - a little cross at myself for not having arrived at this blindingly obvious conclusion earlier. As it turns out though, I’ve heard a little bit about this ‘good web’,

”Isn’t it like the current web without the porn?” I offer. “Without the advertising actually,” Meg replies straight faced. “That’s the real problem”.

I let that one go through to the keeper, as most discussion about the relative merits of pornography vs advertising usually ends in the none too salient observation about both industries being full of wankers.

During the day Meg and her husband Andy teach life skills, a job that is intensely rewarding as it is demanding. Often their clients are dealing with a problem, but they have no idea what it is, let alone how to fix it. By a process of gentle pragmatic coaching Meg helps people identify whatever it is that’s holding them back.

“A lot of the work centres around the relationship between mind and body, when we understand how our body reacts to situations, we can learn to respond differently.” says Meg. 

They’ve set up camp in the cleaning supervisor’s office. Anyone on staff can book a session and clients get free advice on anything from budgeting, to anger management, or relationship guidance, through to how to sit a driving test.

They go into the workplace because it’s easier on the clients, this place has hundreds on staff. “Andy’s even got a set of toy cars he uses for the driving tests, because not everyone can read.” Meg adds.

For some clients Meg or Andy might be the only people they can talk to about stuff, or at least the only people that will listen. Some are really battling, others just surviving, all seem to be hurting: if Meg doesn’t want the phone to ring, it’s only because she wants to develop a set of tools that we can use to fix ourselves.

“Men really get the DIY angle” she laughs. It’s a work in progress though. “Often, they’re just looking for an acknowledgment, a validation of their journey.” Meg adds. “You can physically see a breakthrough. The exhale of breath, the body slumps forward in the relief of being heard.”

Like anyone on the frontline I’m sure Meg can tell horror stories alongside tales of triumph. 

But always with the same starting point: what do you need and what could we do?

See? World domination. But in a good way.