THINK PEOPLE, THINK!
From the Not-Entirely-Clear-On-the-Concept Department:
Today’s discussion is about signs. Two of them. They’re unrelated in content, scope, and purpose. What they do share, it would seem, is the apparent failure of their creators to really think about the purpose of the sign before putting it on display.
Sign 1:
The first sign is in Bethesda. Bethesda is the restaurant capital of the world, possibly the universe. There are more restaurants per something (capita or square foot, I’ve never really been sure which, maybe both) than any other city in the United States. There are also quite a few businesses (to better serve the restaurants, I guess). This means that traffic, both automobile and foot, is often heavy (especially after eating – hahaha I crack me up). Someone has apparently decided that it would be a good idea to remind motorists to be careful. So they put up a banner over the road. They put it high enough so trucks could get underneath it, which was intelligent. The idea itself wasn’t a bad idea, either. The implementation, however, needs improvement. They chose to post their public service announcement as two lines of black text on a green background. Did I mention that this was a banner that spanned three lanes of traffic? Two lines of that length is a lot of text. A lot of text high in the air that is hard to distinguish from its background. By the time I figured out what it said and finished reading it, I had to slam on my brakes to avoid rear-ending the car in front of me. Seems a little counter-productive if you ask me.
Sign 2:
I saw the second sign in my apartment building on the community message board. It was a thin strip of paper with about a paragraph of text on it. The gist of the message was that the person was new to graphic design and wanted small jobs to help build their resume. The idea makes sense and selling small services to neighbors seemed smart to me. The trouble with this sign is that it completely failed to demonstrate any skill at graphic design. It was a paragraph cut from a printed page. This ad is the only evidence a potential customer has of the person’s graphic design abilities and it does not inspire confidence.
So, today’s lesson, is THINK about what you’re doing. Think about the goal, and then think about how ALL aspects of your solution affect that goal. If you’re designing a sign to promote safety, make sure the sign itself isn’t dangerous. If you’re trying to promote your graphic design skills, make sure your advertisement does not suggest you have none.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Friday, March 19, 2004
NO GIRLS ALLOWED
My roommate is getting married and it is my privilege, honor, and absolute joy to be in charge of the bachelor party. Good stuff. I have attended a few and I have planned one once before. Well, one and a half. The “one” went really well. The “half” was not quite as spectacular. My roommate and I collaborated on that one when we found out that the Best Man had no intention of doing so. Unfortunately, we only noticed this omission about a week before the wedding and were forced to hold the event on a Thursday evening before a Saturday wedding with only about two days to actually plan. It was small, but intense. The groom was still hung over at the rehearsal dinner. The bride has not forgiven us for that one. She fails to appreciate that we gave the groom a whole day longer to recuperate than his father received when he did his bachelor party. Being hung-over at the rehearsal dinner is much much better than being hung-over at the wedding itself.
After witnessing the effects of that bachelor party (on both the groom AND my roommate), my roommate’s fiancée made us promise (several times) to keep my roommate sober in the 48 hours prior to the wedding. I find this interesting because our other friend’s wife has made him promise to do the exact opposite. She would consider it fitting revenge to see my roommate hung-over at his own rehearsal dinner (see, I told you she still hasn’t forgiven us). How that will play out, I do not know, but I cannot wait to find out. As far as the official bachelor party is concerned, we are keeping the first promise. We are, in fact, holding the bachelor party a week before even the bachelorette party. But that’s okay, because our party will be better.
My roommate’s fiancée is beginning to get worried. She wants more time with him that weekend. She wants to make sure he’s safe. She wants to know what is going on. She’s getting none of it. Ordinarily, I’m a pretty decent fellow. I do, in fact, feel a little guilty that she is getting nervous about this. But this is a bachelor party. The entire point of the bachelor party is to take the groom away from the bride, to raucously establish his masculine independence. So if the bride is worried, good. I’m not going to console her. I’m not going to reassure her. I will promise we won’t intend to do any permanent damage, but that’s about it.
She’s not alone. There are apparently numerous other women who share her curiosity and, to their chagrin, her ignorance. “But I promise I won’t tell her,” they say. I do not care. Then they threaten or cajole. One girl even stood on my toes and threatened to stay there until I told my secret. I left with a slight limp and she left with nothing. It is my philosophy that no female is to be privy to any of the plans unless her assistance is necessary. And certainly, no female should attend the party unless she is paid for services rendered at said party. Some girls do not this applies to them. “But I’m just like one of the guys…” No, actually, you’re not. Close, maybe, in some behaviors, but lacking a certain something.
The bachelor party is for males and unless you have fulfilled all the requirements to be a male, you may not attend. And blocking your attempts to do so is half the fun.
My roommate is getting married and it is my privilege, honor, and absolute joy to be in charge of the bachelor party. Good stuff. I have attended a few and I have planned one once before. Well, one and a half. The “one” went really well. The “half” was not quite as spectacular. My roommate and I collaborated on that one when we found out that the Best Man had no intention of doing so. Unfortunately, we only noticed this omission about a week before the wedding and were forced to hold the event on a Thursday evening before a Saturday wedding with only about two days to actually plan. It was small, but intense. The groom was still hung over at the rehearsal dinner. The bride has not forgiven us for that one. She fails to appreciate that we gave the groom a whole day longer to recuperate than his father received when he did his bachelor party. Being hung-over at the rehearsal dinner is much much better than being hung-over at the wedding itself.
After witnessing the effects of that bachelor party (on both the groom AND my roommate), my roommate’s fiancée made us promise (several times) to keep my roommate sober in the 48 hours prior to the wedding. I find this interesting because our other friend’s wife has made him promise to do the exact opposite. She would consider it fitting revenge to see my roommate hung-over at his own rehearsal dinner (see, I told you she still hasn’t forgiven us). How that will play out, I do not know, but I cannot wait to find out. As far as the official bachelor party is concerned, we are keeping the first promise. We are, in fact, holding the bachelor party a week before even the bachelorette party. But that’s okay, because our party will be better.
My roommate’s fiancée is beginning to get worried. She wants more time with him that weekend. She wants to make sure he’s safe. She wants to know what is going on. She’s getting none of it. Ordinarily, I’m a pretty decent fellow. I do, in fact, feel a little guilty that she is getting nervous about this. But this is a bachelor party. The entire point of the bachelor party is to take the groom away from the bride, to raucously establish his masculine independence. So if the bride is worried, good. I’m not going to console her. I’m not going to reassure her. I will promise we won’t intend to do any permanent damage, but that’s about it.
She’s not alone. There are apparently numerous other women who share her curiosity and, to their chagrin, her ignorance. “But I promise I won’t tell her,” they say. I do not care. Then they threaten or cajole. One girl even stood on my toes and threatened to stay there until I told my secret. I left with a slight limp and she left with nothing. It is my philosophy that no female is to be privy to any of the plans unless her assistance is necessary. And certainly, no female should attend the party unless she is paid for services rendered at said party. Some girls do not this applies to them. “But I’m just like one of the guys…” No, actually, you’re not. Close, maybe, in some behaviors, but lacking a certain something.
The bachelor party is for males and unless you have fulfilled all the requirements to be a male, you may not attend. And blocking your attempts to do so is half the fun.
Monday, January 12, 2004
JUMPING THROUGH HOOPS
It has been suggested to be my several different people that I should compile my various "pursuit of relationship" stories. They think it would be a very amusing read. They mean it as a compliment but I pretend to take it as it sounds, because it's more fun to do that. In truth, though, it does not really bother me. I am rather taken by the idea. I may do just such a thing someday. I've even gone as far as to identify which stories might be the best to include in such a collection. I do have quite a few.
The original idea came from my mother. I make her laugh when I tell of my various adventures in dating. She first mentioned it to me after I told her about the time I tried to take a girl out by arranging an ice skating trip among my friends to which I could "incidentally" invite the girl in a sort of low/no pressure situation (this was in college, but I apparently had not yet escaped the middle-school notion that you must keep your interest a secret from the object of your interests until the last possible moment). It took me a while to find a night when my friends could make such a trip, but I did eventually. Then, armed with just enough confirmations (several of them couples, but not ALL of them, of course) that I could legitimately say "Hey, a group of us are going ice skating this Thursday and I was wondering if you'd like to join us," I called her up and said just that. To which she responded, "I'd love to, but I'm busy on that night." The night I had so painstakingly picked so I could have the right mix of friends present. Once the purpose of the trip vanished, my friends all admitted that they weren't really that interested in going skating anyway, not just then, and the whole trip was canceled. It made my mom laugh and she told me I needed to write these stories down somewhere, because it was not the first time one of my adventures had made her laugh, nor would it be the last. It made me laugh, too, which is good, because as I have already said, it wasn't the last time I did such a thing (see previous column TRU LUV). And I know of friends who also have amusing stories to tell (see previous column WHY I LOVE VALENTINE'S DAY). I imagine, on this particular subject, just about everyone has done something at least faintly ridiculous.
I even know what I would call it, "Jumping through Hoops," because that's what I tend to do. Elaborate schemes and well thought out plans (perhaps "endlessly" would be a better word than "well"), I am the Rube Goldberg of the dating world. It's fun to be me. I do not always get the dates, but I do get good stories to tell.
It has been suggested to be my several different people that I should compile my various "pursuit of relationship" stories. They think it would be a very amusing read. They mean it as a compliment but I pretend to take it as it sounds, because it's more fun to do that. In truth, though, it does not really bother me. I am rather taken by the idea. I may do just such a thing someday. I've even gone as far as to identify which stories might be the best to include in such a collection. I do have quite a few.
The original idea came from my mother. I make her laugh when I tell of my various adventures in dating. She first mentioned it to me after I told her about the time I tried to take a girl out by arranging an ice skating trip among my friends to which I could "incidentally" invite the girl in a sort of low/no pressure situation (this was in college, but I apparently had not yet escaped the middle-school notion that you must keep your interest a secret from the object of your interests until the last possible moment). It took me a while to find a night when my friends could make such a trip, but I did eventually. Then, armed with just enough confirmations (several of them couples, but not ALL of them, of course) that I could legitimately say "Hey, a group of us are going ice skating this Thursday and I was wondering if you'd like to join us," I called her up and said just that. To which she responded, "I'd love to, but I'm busy on that night." The night I had so painstakingly picked so I could have the right mix of friends present. Once the purpose of the trip vanished, my friends all admitted that they weren't really that interested in going skating anyway, not just then, and the whole trip was canceled. It made my mom laugh and she told me I needed to write these stories down somewhere, because it was not the first time one of my adventures had made her laugh, nor would it be the last. It made me laugh, too, which is good, because as I have already said, it wasn't the last time I did such a thing (see previous column TRU LUV). And I know of friends who also have amusing stories to tell (see previous column WHY I LOVE VALENTINE'S DAY). I imagine, on this particular subject, just about everyone has done something at least faintly ridiculous.
I even know what I would call it, "Jumping through Hoops," because that's what I tend to do. Elaborate schemes and well thought out plans (perhaps "endlessly" would be a better word than "well"), I am the Rube Goldberg of the dating world. It's fun to be me. I do not always get the dates, but I do get good stories to tell.
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