Royals vs Roses - a lesson in "know thyself"

For as long as I can remember, I have loved my mother’s fine china, the Sarabande pattern by Royal Doulton.  I would eagerly and proudly help her set the table for her elaborate dinner parties, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, admiring the simplicity to its pure white design accented by the subtle black pattern around the edge.  Then, when I was a teenager, my grandmother passed away.  I helped my mom pack up her things, which included carefully wrapping my grandmother's extensive china collection, a 24-person place setting by Spode, with the delicate, intricate and beautiful Chinese Rose pattern to be shipped back to our home.  My mom faithfully alternated the patterns and used both often.

Fast forward about 10 years: I got engaged and was going through the overwhelming task of registering for gifts.  My mom suggested we not bother with fine china, for a variety of practical reasons, including the fact that I would one day inherit one of her patterns.   It went without saying for both of us that this meant the Royal Doulton pattern.  After all, it was the more modern pattern, which matched me - a modern "city mouse".  Despite seeing the delicate beauty to the Chinese Rose pattern, I couldn’t for the life of me envision such a traditional pattern gracing the top of the sleek, minimalist dining room table I would surely one day own.

Fast forward about another 10 years:  I married my husband and we moved up north, to a scenic, idyllic little speck on the US map known as the Berkshires.  I was (voluntarily) going to become a "country mouse".  By a beautiful stroke of serendipity, I found myself falling in love with a perfectly imperfect 1852 farmhouse, with mismatched trim and uneven wood floors.  We stepped into the house and something clicked.  I felt...authentic.  Turns out, THIS was ME.  I was surprised by it.  

As luck would have it, just as my husband and I were upsizing, my parents were downsizing, and it became the perfect time for me to take one of my mom’s china patterns off her hands.  When she asked which one I wanted, I answered quickly – Royal Doulton of course.  It’s more “me” after all.  It always has been.  No brainer. 

Only, it turns out, it wasn’t. 

When I told my mom I’d take the Doulton pattern, she paused and simply said, “Are you sure?  Just think about it.  Whichever one you want is fine, but just think about it.” 

I decided to humor her.  I’d let her think I thought about it for a few days and then tell her I wanted the Doulton.  But instead, I actually did think about it.  And suddenly I realized there was only one answer, and it was clear as day.

Again, I found myself surprised.

It was Chinese Rose that belonged in my character-filled, old New England farmhouse and was meant to grace the reclaimed wood of our dining room table – a far cry from that slick, modern one I had always envisioned.  It was Chinese Rose that had 24 place settings, which I would easily need for holiday gatherings now that all our large family was within a 50 mile radius.  It was the Chinese Rose that had no fewer than a dozen serving platters, bowls and pitchers.  It was simply Chinese Rose. 

It only hit me a few days ago, as I was taking out one of those serving platters, that I had gone through a sort of “rebrand”, not unlike the kind many companies go through.  I had found myself struggling to find the brand (in this case the china pattern) that aligned with my culture (in this case my own self) and I was clinging to the brand I had grown up with, the brand I had associated myself to, not recognizing that somewhere in those 20 years, I had developed my own,different culture - my own, different self.  And it simply wasn't reflected by the Doulton pattern.  Such a realization can be surprising - jarring, even.  It can be exciting, uncomfortable, comforting and liberating. 

Best of all, empowering.  

Royal Doulton is indeed a beautiful pattern, and I do still like, admire and appreciate minimalist, modern design.  But I've learned that there is a difference between admiring and appreciating something for what it is, and adopting it as your own.  

I encourage you to take a step back and reflect on the aspects of your brand or culture that are authentic and genuine, and which are assumed or adopted.  Accept your authentic self and make that your own, because after all, it already is.  You might be surprised - others will admire and appreciate you for it.

Amazon: a Creature of our own making

It's hard to have missed the recent hubbub about Amazon's corporate culture. I'll resist the urge to launch into an analysis and lecture about its culture and rather focus on a different side of the story that jumped out at me when I read the NY Times article that ignited this most recent firestorm.  

“A customer was able to get an Elsa doll that they could not find in all of New York City, and they had it delivered to their house in 23 minutes,” said Ms. Landry, who was authorized by the company to speak, still sounding exhilarated months later about providing “Frozen” dolls in record time.

That becomes possible, she and others said, when everyone follows the dictates of the leadership principles. “We’re trying to create those moments for customers where we’re solving a really practical need,” Ms. Landry said, “in this way that feels really futuristic and magical.”

I'm sorry, but when did getting a doll delivered to my front door in less time than I can cook dinner become a really practical need??  Has our addiction to instant gratification really become so bad? What are we teaching our children?  Certainly not that good things come to those that wait.  I suppose it's time to clean that tarnish off our silver platters.  On second thought, let's just buy new ones - it'll probably be quicker.  

I'm all for customer service and a "customer is always right" mentality.  But come on, customers - let's get real.  Let's take a good, hard look at our expectations, standards and rights as consumers, and not mistake one for the other.  

And when toxic corporate cultures are created to meet these ever-loftier expectations, let's not stand there in shock and indignation, condemning the very monster we helped to create by setting the bar so high and rewarding its success by contributing to its colossal growth with our "1-click" purchases.   

Now, let me be clear on this: I am not defending Amazon's corporate culture nor do I believe that such a culture is the only way for a company be successful (look at Google and Starbucks).  But you also didn't have to agree with Bela Karolyi's controversial coaching style to recognize its effect on gymnastic legends like Mary Lou Retton.  The difference between Amazon employees and Karolyi's gymnasts of course, is that the former are adults, making the decision to work at, stay at or leave Amazon of their own, free, adult will.  

I simply am suggesting that before we jump to condemn a private company's internal culture, we should first take a long, hard look at our own, tarnished social culture.  I believe Amazon's culture is simply a symptom of a much larger problem - a problem for which, sadly and truthfully, we are responsible.

We seem to suffer from a sort of Frankenstein-syndrome, where we end up in the predicament of trying to tame the very Creature we helped to create in the first place.  Kind of like the NFL.  

If we are so adamantly appalled at Amazon's corporate culture, let's stop being enablers and cultivate the cultures in our own backyards.  Let's put away our smartphones and make our purchases from our own, local shops. Let's lower our demands, just a little.  Not at the expense of basic consumer rights and good, quality service, but in the name of empathy, sustainability, and humanity.  Let's recall the difference between "need" and "want" and teach our children the valuable virtue of patience.  Let's recognize the cost to our environment and privacy to meet our so-called need for better, cheaper, NOW! 

Yes, absolutely: retailers, service providers, and businesses must take responsibility to provide the highest level of service and quality, at all times, without exception.  But as customers, clients and consumers, we have a responsibility too: to recognize the difference between maintaining high standards and unreasonable expectations.  May we all find the courage to demand high standards, the grace to accept reasonable limitations and the wisdom to know the difference.  Maybe, just maybe, we can find a happy medium.