The Saga of the Five Euro Nescafé

Dear Iberia Airlines:

That was a neat little trick you pulled off on my recent flight. I mean pull around the coffee, tea, and juice service cart and ask politely if I want an ice cold Coca-Cola or perhaps a zumo de manzana so fresh I'd feel like I picked it myself and ran it through my Jack LaLanne juicer.

Instead I sifted through the dozen or so offerings and opted for Nescafé espresso with milk. "Espresso" I thought....what a nice treat on my quick international commuter flight. Ah to be on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées nursing my espresso at a sidewalk cafe as tourists from around the globe carrying their fancy Louis Vuitton and Givenchy shopping bags paraded in front of me to their next stops in their retail debauchery sojourns.

Yes, Iberia, you had me at "Nescafé" as I mentally locked arms with George Clooney and Penelope Cruz preparing to sip the smooth java gold that only this instant brand can deliver.

Then, Iberia, you cut me down to earth in second. As if being sliced effortlessly by a matador's sabre in Madrid's legendary bull ring you struck! After serving my espresso, the bad news was delivered: "Five Euros, please..." Imagine my look of astonishment as I fished out my Euro coins, scrambling to find the right combination to equal the magic number that had wrestled me from my daydream with those beautiful Oscar winners.

I mean, really, Iberia?

Charging for drinks without alcohol?

This is a new twist on squeezing revenue out of your passengers. At least announce it in Spanish over the intercom so it gives the illusion there was fair warning. What was I supposed to do after it was served? Refuse to pay? What kind of entitled American traveler would attempt that? (Probably a lot, but not me...) I paid while the empathetic flight attendant embraced me in a way only a mature, seasoned air hostess could while reaching into your wallet for five Euros.

At the end of it, I sipped on those four ounces of heaven and toasted to George and Penelope. I'd like to think no they toasted back. 

Clowning Around

Okay, so where am I?

Well, I am sitting at my office marveling at the ESPN news alert that just came through my phone:

"NHL: Vegas Golden Knights' trademark request denied due to 'likelihood of confusion' with logo for College of Saint Rose."

Seriously?

I mean boys, I wrote you back in June suggesting that a phone call to the Media Guy might be a wise idea to line everything up.

When I say "boys" I am talking directly to NHL Commish Gary Bettman and Vegas Golden Knights owner Billy Foley. I told them that I "sketched out five-year plan for the growth of hockey in the desert."

Guess what? They didn't call and now they can't even get the logo or the team name right.

I can't really get my head wrapped around this today. You can't be denied the basic identity of your franchise before you even have a team in place. These are basic rules of the game. Call it Media Guy Law #141, if you will. Then I read this headline: "NHL won't reconsider Vegas Golden Knights name, despite trademark denial" as the NHL backpedals trying to defend their faux pas. *SMH*

Offer still stands boys, er, gentlemen: Call the Media Guy!

Speaking of clowns...

I'm still recovering from Black Friday. I mean clicking around Amazon, Target, Tiffany, and the TeamLA Store searching for 75% off deals is a lot of work. My index finger is sore and swollen.

*Sigh*

And, everyone around me are going a bit nuts as the stock market continues its rise and projections skyrocket for the best sales in post-Thanksgiving history.

I don't do Black Friday. Have you ever been to one? It's nothing short of anarchy. This is why I urged America to shop right right last year. I have no clue if it is working. All I know is that Amazon and I get real close this time of the year.

You can blame the media for the insurgence of Black Friday sales. The first story on every local newscast, every 24-hour cable special interest story and top shelf on most online sites is about Black Friday. PR companies for the retailers - media and large - crawl all over themselves to get the stories out on their big sales and deals. For retailers, it's the day on the promotional calendar that can't be ignored. One day the roosters will come home to roost on this shopping phenomenon.

While we are worried about what to get for Christmas and the whole bullying fears that came out of the election, we see that people are standing up for the rights of all...even clowns!

The staff at City Lights Bookshop, a Canadian bookstore say a sign banning clowns from the store was a joke and the two clowns who confronted the owner went way too far.

No Clowns Allowed?

The two clowns took offense to a sign in the store's window that had a picture of a clown with a red circle and line through the image, indicating no clowns.

Police arrived. No charges were filed.

On Twitter, the bookstore tweeted: "no clowns have ever been banned in the shop" and "physically intimidating and yelling at a woman is not the way to get your demands met. A decent face-to-face with respect and kindness is..."

The bookstore has not taken the sign down.

Maybe it could be the Vegas Golden Knights logo.

Clown Gallery: Top 10 of All Time

10. The Poltergeist Clown. A child's worst nightmare comes to life.

9. Killer Clowns from Outer Space: bloodhound balloon animals, killer shadow puppets and more!

8. Krusty. Never believe the on-screen persona. 

7. Pulcinella. The most clever of all.

6. The Joker. Oscar-winning Mayhem.

5. Pennywise. Any clown that can shapeshift is amazing. Stephen King = genius. Duh!

4. Fizbo: The ass-kicking clown that will twist you like a balloon animal.

3. Ubu Roi: the antihero — vulgar, dishonest, voracious, gluttonous, evil and cowardly.

2. Vegas Golden Knights: see above.

1. Ronald McDonald. It wasn't the burgers making kids heavy. It was the clown scaring kids from leaving their houses.

Honorable Mention: 

Wedding Crashers

Do You Want to Make a TV Show?

Okay, so where am I?

Last week, I decided to take a few days off and fly up to Portland, an attractive city where the people are friendly and the food is amazing. It’s a short flight. My friend has a place there so I figured, why not?

When the cab dropped me off at LAX, I was shocked to discover the place was packed. It still looked like the day before Thanksgiving. What the hell was going on?

Agents are a curious breed, so I decided to ask around and every single traveler gave me the same answer: They were all actors flying home after spending pilot season in L.A.

To make matters worse, they looked broken, like soldiers leaving a war zone. I felt bad for them because I knew they had made a fatal mistake. You see, L.A. isn’t a place you can visit for a few months and then abandon. You have to commit if you want to get anything in return.

The whole concept of coming to L.A. from January to March hoping to score a pilot is insane—it just doesn’t make sense. And if you don’t already have decent representation here, you might as well stay home and try inventing time travel. Your odds of success are about the same.

Dear Amazon - take a flyer on this hidden gem!

First of all, no agent will sign you in January because they just spent the last few months building up their client list for pilot season. Second, casting directors who don’t know you aren’t going to have time to meet you because they’re too busy casting pilots. And third, if by some miracle you actually got a chance to audition for a series regular role, you won’t have the experience to do well in that kind of high-pressure setting.

Another problem you’ll have to face is the competition. There are already thousands of actors here who are just like you, except they have representation and several casting fans. They’re the ones who will be auditioning for pilots, not you.

So here’s what you have to consider. If you’re living in any city other than L.A. (with the possible exception of New York) and you’re interested in booking a pilot, this is the time of year you need to start thinking about making the big move West.

But don’t kid yourself. Even if you get here by summer, I’m not suggesting you’ll be ready for pilot season by the start of 2017. Ha! I’m talking 2018, because you’ll need at least that much time to find representation, meet the casting community, and establish yourself as an actor worth hiring. (And that’s assuming you actually have some talent and a fair share of luck.)

Why so long? Well, ask yourself this: What kind of actors book pilots? Answer: the ones who work in television. That’s why dropping in for a few months without TV credits makes you look clueless, like a hick who fell off the turnip truck.

And please don’t kid yourself with tales of actors who booked pilots with almost no experience. Sure, that happens once or twice a year but those people are outliers and they don’t represent the whole. You can’t assume that if one person out of thousands ends up winning the lottery then you will too. That’s false logic and a deluded way to live.

So make a commitment. Rent an apartment. Buy a car. And send the city some flowers. Who knows? If you show L.A. a little love, she just might love you back.

Article first appeared as Secret Agent Man in Backstage.

Café Squatters

Café Squatters.
Coffee Shop Campers.

Laptop Hobos. 

The Office Nomad.

Have you noticed them?

Before I get into my rant and need to meet with a random Japanese TV exec or South Korean producer at a local eatery without finding a seat amongst those stealing free WiFi that's included with your $2.65 Venti, let me say first that I have written a screenplay or two at my local Starbucks. 

Guilty as charged.

But today...

Well, today I went into my local Corner Bakery for a quick lunch -- or should I say attempted lunch? -- and wound up wandering around looking for a table. 

None were available.

Wah-wah-waaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Why?

Because half of the tables have been annexed by local suburban squatters who decided that any place with free WiFi is the perfect spot for an ad hoc Regus office. These "patrons" were done eating...if they ever ate at all. They're simply sitting there rat-a-tat-tatting on their laptops and electronic notepads turning our shared public space into their personal office, oblivious and uncaring that their misplaced multi-tasking has become a public nuisance. 

Ever tried to sit down at a Starbucks these days to enjoy a smooth Christmas Blend and read your New York Times (yes, they still sell newspapers there!)?  You can't find a seat. Why? All of the tables have been claimed in the epidemic known as the Invasion of the Laptops. 

There are two places you should be using your laptop for business or pleasure: work or home. Period. 

Before our mobile society took over, you never saw anyone lugging a manual typewriter into McDonald's or the little café adjacent to your office. No one sat in the booth in the back tapping out letters, homework or their next big idea. So why now? Why are we doing it with a WiFi version of a typewriter?

Some people don't even rent office space anymore. Why bother? Check out the business card from the next consultant you meet for convenience at Coffee Bean. Could it be their address is actually there? 

They made it cool to hang out at the coffee shop all day...sigh.

A majority of the people who squat aren't even working on anything important. They have grown up believing that being seen in public or a laptop conveys intelligence. They want you to believe they are doing some kind of think tank analysis when instead they are watching rejected cat memes on the America's Funniest Home Video youtube channel.  You see these same people constant on their smartphones as well, showcasing they are always in demand.  

We need to strike a deal here. 

No one is saying that you can’t drink your custom crafted espresso delight and mix in a spinach feta wrap, and soak up the bandwidth. You should. I have. however, if you know you’re no longer consuming, you’re essentially using the space as a library. You know what you should do? You should pick up your stuff and relocate to an actual library. The Gods will not somehow forsake your creative juices if you're working on being the next Woody Allen while crafting your screenplay. 

And no, by relocating to a public space that actually has their arms outstretched waiting for you, you’re not sacrificing meeting the love of your life by serendipity on the way to the restroom. Look for your soulmate on your own time. As Jeff Spicoli says, this is "our time."  

So, hit the bricks.

The AMAs: Girl-on Girl Crime!

Okay, so where am I?

I'm rubbing elbows with the elite of music at the American Music Awards. Sting, Ariana Grande, Selena Gomez and more. Before I arrived to the red carpet on Sunday, I was offered $5,000 for one of my press passes. I passed because if you did that at the Oscars you might wind up in white collar prison. A young Media Guy would have done it. I'm either old or wise now...

I was super thrilled to see Gigi Hadid on the red carpet and host the show. However, I might be the only one who made this must-see TV. Variety says that barely eight million people watched last night’s American Music Awards (which was down a humongous 31% from 2015).

What else does that mean?

It means that right around eight million folks have sore faces from the involuntary face crumpling inspired by Gigi Hadid trying to bring the comedy on some random youtube episode. Her monologue with Jay Pharoah was an epic dumpster fire that you couldn't take your eyes off of.

I describe Gigi’s hosting performance in the same way many study executives describe my early Media Guy television show pitches: awkward, weird, stiff (not in a hot way) and left you needing several strong well drinks. But what really annoyed me was her demeaning imitation of our First Lady-elect.

During their opening, Pharoah did the obligatory impersonations of Jay Z and (of course) Donald Trump (he's from Saturday Night Live, folks, he had to). On the other side, Gigi forgot that she's Palestinian and all of the heartache the people from Palestine have endured over the year and unleashed a Melania Trump impression that was, well, awkward, weird, stiff (not in a hot way) and left you needing several strong drinks. Sure it's easy to impersonate Melania Trump. But do you have to? I mean Mrs. Trump is only the second foreign-born First Lady ever. If you don't like The DOn and his politics and immigration policies, rail on the man not the woman. Shaming a First Lady to be isn't the path to unifying America.

Geez, what happened to the Gigi who shoots out massive loads of charisma and personality? Sheesh! Disappointing.

Click here to watch - go to the 2:23 mark of the clip

On the flip slide of the girl-on-girl crime perpetuated by Gigi is Selena Gomez.

Over the last few months, Selena (yeah, I think I can call her that now after the St. Jude's Gala a decade ago) has been off the grid dealing with her lupus diagnosis and other issues rooted in the evil of Justin Bieber/the aftermath of being a Disney child star.  On this night won an he AMA for Favorite Pop/Rock Female Artist and made us all cry:

“Thank you guys so much. In 2014, this stage was actually the first time that I was authentically 100% honest with all of you. I think it’s safe to say that most of you know a lot of my life whether I liked it or not. And I had to stop, ’cause I had everything, and I was absolutely broken inside. And I kept it all together enough to where I would never let you down, but I kept it too much together where I let myself down. 

I don’t want to see your bodies on Instagram. I want to see what’s in here. I’m not trying to get validation, nor do I need it anymore. All I can say from the bottom of my heart is I am so grateful to have the opportunity to be able to share what I love every single day with people that I love. And I have to say thank you so much to my fans because you are so damn loyal, and I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But if you are broken, you do not have to stay broken. And if that’s anything, whether you respect me or not, that’s one thing you should know about me: is that I care about people.”

On an unrelated note, Selena’s former friend Kylie Jenner was so so confused by Selena’s speech, she probably whispered to one of the Dashes, "If you’re not putting your body on Instagram for attention, what the hell is the point? I mean if you aren't told regularly that your pictures violate their explicit content rules, then you're not trying.”

Maybe I should take this down - I don't want to be sued...In any case, on with the AMA / Media Guy Red Carpet Gallery:

Ariana Grande: Seeing a woman who looks like a 12 year old dressing sexy is forever awkward, weird, stiff (not in a hot way) and left you needing several strong drinks.

DJ Khaled: You can the man out of the DJ booth, but not the DJ out of the man.

Gigi: Stunning nonetheless.

Kat Graham: The highlight of any red carpet.

Lady Gaga with the impeccable white pant suit and 1970's model hat.

Simply Red - Selena Gomez

Sting: I still can't get over that he makes $2,000 a day from Puff Daddy's ripoff of his song.

-------------

NOTE: In 2013, I covered the American Music Awards and got distracted by a one-armed man. Read on...

Collaboration

Are you a Ringleader? Skeptic? Stealth Ninja? The top nine collaboration types that exist within an organization have been identified.

Collaboration.

It's an important component of any successful marketing campaign. But successful collaboration is easier said than done. Just like there are multiple types of personalities that interact with one another differently, there are also different styles of collaborators that interact with one another differently.

To help improve the effectiveness of your collaboration efforts, iMeetCentral has published an infographic entitled "The 9 Types of Collaborators." It's based on a survey of over 10,000 and offers a detailed look at how different people collaborate and how to best work with these collaborator styles.

How these nine types of collaborators can improve your creative output...

Purpose-Drive Users

Power Users

Reluctant Users

The Golden Age of Flying

My recent talk with Daniela the Flight Girl spurred my nostalgia about what flying was like back in the day. I remember those Mad Men episode with Don Draper was winging it to the coast with Roger Sterling with the suit coats still buttoned and stewardess with gloves on taking drink orders.

Today is a little different, right? You know the drill, show up three hours early, get frisked by TSA, beg for an upgrade (or pay a fortune for business class), and share sodas with your seat mates. So, what was it like when airline travel became a romanticized mode of transportation? I'll tell you, it was smokey, dangerous, boozy, expensive, boring, racist, and sexist.

Expensive Tickets

In the fifties, a roundtrip ticket from Los Angeles to Chicago would set you back about $1,200 in today's dollars (when adjusted for inflation). A one-way trip to Rome would have cost you $3,000!

Smoking

During the fifties, smoking (cigarettes, pipes and cigars) was acceptable (and to a large degree encourages) in flight. However, you couldn't smoke in the terminal. Senior management at the airlines and the FAA were deathly (pun intended) afraid that fuel fumes could be ignited. Reform came in 1988 when smoking was prohibited on short domestic flights. In 2000, a new law banned smoking on all flights department from and inbound to the United States.

Baggage Claim

Back in the day, you would wait for a skycap to organize the luggage and after that laborious process, you would point our your suitcase and tip the man.

Lots of Drinking

Mile High Club aside, the only in-flight entertainment used to be alcohol. Everyone was served as much free alcohol as they could handle. And not handle. It was pretty common to disembark the plane totally hammered.

No ID Needed

Even as late as the nineties, you could board a plane with only your ticket. Showing up at the airport a few minutes before your flight was the perfect pre-flight timing, you didn't take off your shoes, belt or hat, and your girlfriend could walk you to the gate to make sure you were going to where you said you were.

Danger!

In the Golden Age of Flying, your chances of dying were five times greater than today (and a patch of turbulence could snap your neck). Nice-looking dividers separated first class from coach. The only drawback was that they could shatter and spray you with glass during turbulence. Walking to the bathroom could be fatal. Trip and you could find yourself landing on a sharp edge or jag of a chair or table. Safety was not a priority once upon a time.

AD OF THE WEEK/MONTH/WHATEVER

In the sixties, sex sold everything. Today, you'd be called a misogynists or Donal Trump. I've detailed the AirStrip campaign quite a few times in the quasi-pages of the Media Guy Struggles. For those of you that missed it read the story. I'm excited to write that I finally found the vintage television spot.

In the commercial, a “hostess” (a new term coined by the advertising folks) casually strips off layers of her Emilio Pucci uniform to classic stripper music while the dominating male voiceover narrator uses not-so-subtle sexual innuendo to describe her action. Note the concluding tag line:

“The AirStrip is brought to you by Braniff International, who believe that even an airline hostess should look like a girl."

See for yourself...

The Golden Age of Flying Gallery

Thanks to the SAS Museum for the art!