The Connection Between Blue Parking and Supplements

So, we're walking across the parking lot at our 24-Hour Fitness gym in the late afternoon. It's still July, so the double-digit heat not only slams you from above, but double-whammies you back from below as it radiates off the blazing asphalt below our feet. There's a bank of tall trees in the back of the lot that provide afternoon shaded parking to anyone willing to brave a few extra paces to the air-conditioned lobby oasis -- well worth the effort, even though it feels like the rubber soles of our shoes are going to melt on the 50-yard frying pan we're crossing.

As we get closer to the entrance, a Jeep zips into the parking space closest to the door, which is clearly marked as being handicapped. A very fit-looking young man jumps out of the vehicle and briskly heads into the building.

My wife makes a snide remark about him not looking very handicapped -- and sure enough as we pass the car, there are no stickers or placards that would legally permit use of the space.

Oh, wait a minute. Look, he's left the car running and has his emergency hazard lights flashing!

"Like that makes it okay?" my wife asks.

"Actually, it explains everything," I assure my wife, who looks at me like I'm as much of a creep as the guy who just got out of the jeep.

"Seriously," I continue. "On page 56 of The Book of Entitled Slackers (ISBN-10: 019951742a - available on Amazon.com if you know where to look), it clearly states that leaving your car running with the emergency flashers operating entitles you to park ANYWHERE YOU DAMN WELL PLEASE -- whether it's handicapped, the curb by the entrance of the grocery store, in front of airport terminals, blocking fire hydrants -- anywhere -- you name it."

She gives me a courtesy laugh, and we head inside. After being checked-in at the front desk by the snarling young girl who always refuses to hand you your card back, instead preferring to slap it on the counter as if she were holding you in contempt for something, I notice Jeep-Jockey purchasing a huge container of some kind of supplement, and then dashing back out the door to his waiting-and-running "emergency" parked vehicle.

And then it makes sense. Cutting corners...

Everyone's so anxious to get ahead, be at the top, make the sale or close the deal (or have the perfectly sculpted body) that they will, more-often-than-not, go from Step One to Step Six in the process. This type of thinking has been aptly referred to as "One-Sixing," but to me it's just being lazy -- like parking in a handicapped space to save time getting the supplements needed to speed up getting that chiseled hardbody that, by the way, no one is really all that interested in seeing you show off.

There's a great book (this one's real) out there called Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture by Ellen Ruppel Shell. It's a little disturbing, but provides some valuable insights. In one passage, the author laments how we no longer see or really expect craftsmanship in products or services anymore:

"A bricklayer or carpenter or teacher, a musician or salesperson, a writer of computer code -- any and all can be craftsman. Craftsmanship cements a relationship between buyer and seller, worker and employer, and expects something of both. It is about caring about the work and its application."

Marketing craftsmen don't cut corners. They treat every task, every job and every project as if it were an unmolded mound of clay or freshly-milled piece of wood. They take time to listen, think outside the box, ask questions and then listen again. They realize the importance of steps two through five, and don't figuratively park in the handicapped space or use supplements to fast-track their way to a speedy solution. Because that solution will fail in the long run.

We live in a fast-paced business world, and advertising and marketing professionals are by nature fast-paced, deadline-oriented people. But there's still room for craftsmanship -- especially now in these troubled times when the stakes are so high for so many.