A DAD'S LIFE:It's through the process of copying that ideas are spread, writes ADAM BROPHY
THE WIFE has a columnist crush, and it's not me. Forget Tuesday; Monday is her favourite Irish Timesreading day. She logs on that morning and for the rest of the day – sometimes the week – if the column has a deep impact, we are treated to what Lucy thinks.
Lucy Kellaway, as most of you probably know, is the management columnist of the Financial Times, and her column is syndicated in this paper. She's brilliant, insightful, witty, engaging. I really like her – just not quite as much as the wife does (as that would probably be impossible).
A couple of years back, the missus set up her own PR and communications company. Building it and maintaining it has not been easy, as in a recession any sort of excessive marketing spend will be one of the first things jettisoned, whether it is effective or not. She started her company just as this squeeze came on, and so all she has known is high pressure from clients to see a decent return on any investment in her. And rightly so. As far as I can see, she has managed this expectation (one of which would have crushed me) and exceeded it, all without (the odd minor meltdown excepted) losing her mind.
Kellaway is partly responsible for this. Every Monday, what she has to say is filtered into the missus’s sensory system and, if possible, applied to her working model. The columnist could be talking office politics, communications strategy or dealing with cranky clients, whatever. It doesn’t matter – there will be some nugget that can be applied to whatever the missus is dealing with at that moment. It’s fabulous. The missus and I often work from the same building, and Kellaway takes the heat off me to provide any sort of solace.
Often, too, the missus seeks inspiration for my column in what Kellaway writes. She’ll do anything to avoid me mentioning her. Last week, Kellaway wrote on the value of copying, how it shouldn’t be denigrated in the perverse continual search for originality but appreciated as the way in which ideas are spread.
I read it and considered cogging the thing verbatim, but figured that could lead to trouble. Instead, as is often the way, the universe and the thought processes of small girls conspired to convince me that Kellaway is not just a top columnist but also in cahoots with the gods. The next day, I’m driving the offspring and a couple of schoolmates; they are in deep conversation about hobbies and a mutual friend. Although it appears one of the girls is not as fond of the mutual friend as the others and, in the not-so-subtle way of nine-year-olds, is attempting to undermine her.
All the girls take part in pretty much the same after-school activities: music, horse riding, gymnastics, with a couple of variables thrown in so we can distinguish them from one another and not take home the wrong Stepford Child. It just appears the absent child, Girl X, has come to these activities slightly later than the rest. One of the friends is suggesting that Girl X only got involved because she was copying my elder girl. Apparently, “everyone says so”.
There is much consternation at this proclamation, as Girl X is a lively, independent kid, well liked, and the other girls are uncomfortable with the negativity being thrown her way. Suddenly, the accuser is under pressure, being forced to identify “everyone” (turns out to be only one girl, who may be feeling a little left out) and to explain why Girl X shouldn’t be entitled to take part.
I’m a psychologist with a clipboard, earwigging this conversation, delighted they’ve opted to stand by the absent friend but startled at the inference, even at this age, that imitation is far from the highest form of flattery. It implies that from their earliest reckonings, they are pushed to believe individuality is the greatest of achievements, and I am conscious that this is something I have probably instilled in my own pair.
Why? Why the need to stand alone? Why not take support wherever possible and revel in the relationships that develop among groups and teams? Why believe that to stand alone is to be strong? Why belittle the kid who seeks to make his way into the crowd?
Sharing time together, adopting each other’s philosophies and attitudes, taking on habits and making them our own – it’s all copying. If we had to reinvent from scratch every time, we’d be left shivering on a diet of nuts and berries with no friends to bitch and moan to. So thanks Lucy Kellaway, via my wife, for the idea, and good luck to the next hack who decides to take a stab at it.