Sorry for the F word, no apologies for the B word

I was in two minds about how to approach this, and in two minds whether to share the headline in the original.

I was going to paste an extract and then add a bit of erudite (!) Woodreed commentary but then when I read the full piece again (see link) I'm really not sure it can be bettered. And how to choose which extract from a piece crammed full of great quotable quotes?

Perhaps the only thing to add to this cracker of a piece about the power of culture is the B word - that's the B word as in brand.  Internal cultures are created when people inside an organisation behave in a way which is aligned to the brand values.  Not just any old values picked at random from the Motherhood and Apple Pie Book of Corporate Values, but values which are grounded in a clearly defined and differentiated brand which has a solid proposition relevant to its target audience.

So I'm with you Brian Chesky all the way on this - just so long as we don't forget it's the brand values that lie at the heart...

"By upholding our core values in everything we do. Culture is a thousand things, a thousand times. It’s living the core values when you hire; when you write an email; when you are working on a project; when you are walking in the hall. We have the power, by living the values, to build the culture. "

A picture paints a thousand words. Or in this case about 100.

Our Monday morning Woodreed workout set us the task of writing 100 words about Manet’s "A Bar at the Folies-Bergere". 1 minute to think then just simply write for 5 minutes or so.

There was such a range of responses, from description to dialogue to humour. Particularly amusing was Patrick’s version where he wove in the previous week’s workshop where we’d been dissecting the best and worst of the SuperBowl’s commercials.  What was impressive was the speed in which we all managed to organise our thoughts at 9am on a post clocks going forward Monday morning. Well done Woodies!

Here’s a selection…

What is she thinking? She us gazing distractedly and concerned as she talks to the moustached man in the tall black hat.

Who is he? Is he controlling her or is he perhaps bringing her news ? His face, like hers, impassive.

Neither smiles, neither speaks

In the hubbub of the Parisian night – two silent people. All around life goes on, colourful,  noisy and brash. Prostitutes sit at the bar waiting for their next few Francs.

Is he her love, lost, or something more sinister? Or perhaps something more benign – her brother or an uncle.

It can be whatever you want it to be.

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“It’s over”

“Why?”

“I’ve met someone else. Someone who appreciates me for who I am, doesn’t judge me for what I am or where I’ve come from. Someone who doesn’t want me to be anyone but who I am”

“It’s the drink talking”

“It isn’t that, I haven’t had a drink all night, I’ve given it up, and you know that. I know it’s hard but you can’t change me, I won’t change and you won’t change my mind”

“But I love you”

“No you don’t, you don’t love anyone really….except yourself”

“Think of all the times we’ve spent together. The walks along the Seine, last summer on Ile de Re?

“Just memories. Pack them up, put them away, move on”

“Au revior Cheri/e”

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After Scarlett Johansson appeared in her career-ending Sodastream advert she found herself in the Ragged Trousers bar serving Newcastle Ale on her left and Lambrini on her right feeling as if she were in a painting from the 1880s…

Why oh why had she ditched Oxfam she thought as she looked down at the locals in the bar. Sodastream had gone out of business soon after the ad ran and Oxfam had put an end to poverty using all the support from outraged viewers of Scarlett’s ad. The bar was owned by Oxfam and all their profits going to a good cause and she had to wear this flower uniform as punishment.