Bird's Eye View

New York's Eataly Has Best Pistachio Gelato Anywhere

Ok, I'm obsessed with gelatin. Pistachio gelato. After getting hooked on a trip to Tuscany several years ago with Millie and David McCoy, I was hooked. So whether Shanghai or London or Brooklyn, I check out the gelato.

 

In New York I thought I found the best pistachio gelatin at St. Ambroeus on Madison Ave. But then Eataly came to town. I'm a goner. Good thing it is down on 23rd street so I have to make a trek to get there.

 
In fact Eataly is worth talking about even if there were no gelato. It's the 50,000 square foot adventure devoted to all things Italian and related to food. Seven restaurants, vegetable stands, cheeses, wines, pasta,pizza, chocolate, grilled meets, breads...and the place us designed to Foster conversation. Whether with friends or total strangers Eataly elicits responses...gasps, laughs, chat.

 
Worth a trip to new York. And guaranteed to make you tell everyone you know. Best mouth to mouth ever. I swear I've personally told dozens of new yorkers...and they all are compelled to tell me and everyone else what a great time Eataly is.

 

C200 Conversation: Still changing after these years?

On my way to Los Angeles for the annual Committee of 200 conference. C200 bills itself as the most prestigious organization for senior women business leaders. I'm one of the original founding members and was elected chair of the network for two terms. And I served on its Board of directors for what seem like countless years. So I've observed firsthand the evolution of this amazing group of extraordinary women leaders.

 
It began in response to the need many women expressed privately. Each of them ran big business enterprises. But they were starved for conversation with female peers. Most of us had paid our dues as the rare woman in most groups where we spent time... academic programs, corporate hierarchies, boards of directors... most of our life was built around being the only girl/woman in the group.

We got plenty of attention. But it was lonely. At the inaugural C200 meeting, held in LA, that was the thread running through our conversation. We were thrilled to find that--unique as each of us was in her hometown -- there were others like us who had scaled similar heights to impressive leadership roles and were eager to talk with other like minded women. Those days in Los Angeles provided a shock of recognition in each of us. Eureka! Women like me!

 

C200 now has to determine its role in a changed world. We'll be talking about that.

I'm thinking now, though, of the same shock of recognition that the Internet has produced in people all over the world. People who felt alone in their interest (often obsession) in something their friends, neighbors, family do not share. The boy who lives in a suburb of Milwaukee and loves doing needlepoint. The woman who lives in Sydney and collects snow globes. The man from Naples who lives to ride his Harley. On the internet each can find their tribe of like minded folks.

 
So here is a question for C200 and for other groups formed in pre-Internet days: are you still relevant? Do your members find they can't live without you? Or are there lots of other opportunities for your members to have scintillating conversations with people like themselves?

Conversations on New York Subway

I took the subway to and from Manhattan's Midtown for an appointment on the Upper East Side today.  On the return trip I sat next a man who looked in his 50's, wearing an ARMY Tshirt and an Airborne hat, speaking enthusiastically in Spanish to a friend.   On my other side was a youngish punk guy with an earring in his eyebrow and lots of tattoos. 

I turned to the Spanish speaking man during a lull in his conversation and asked if he was an ARMY supporter or perhaps a veteran himself.  Turns out he is a vet and proud of it.  Says his days in the US Army were the best of his life and he is proud to have served. 

That's when we both looked up and noticed that across from us sat a man whose face suggested he was in his sixties, but who was highly fit physically, with ruppling arm and leg muscles that would make a much younger man envious.  What was additionally striking about him is that he was furiously knitting what appeared to be a large sweater.  And it was intricate, with imbedded cabling that anyone who has tried knitting knows is not easy to do.  This guy was a knitting pro and he was fast.

 
The punkish guy on my left saw him at the same time and he said to me, "If knitting would make me look like that when I'm his age, I'd knit every day."  And my Army veteran pal said, "Isn't that great? Now men can do women's stuff and women can do men's stuff.  We're getting better at figuring out that people should do whatever they are good at, if they like it."

Just then a woman sitting next to the knitter asked him about his project.  He held up a nearly finished truly gorgeous wine colored large men's sweater that would sell at Paul Stuart for $600.  Easy.  I heard him say he'd been knitting for a long time, inspired by Rosey Grier, the former lineman for the Los Angeles Rams who took up needlpoint to calm his nerves.  Rosey Greier is an amazing personality who, after retiring from football, became a bodyguard for Robert Kennedy.  As I understand it, he is the person who grabbed Sirhan Sirhan's gun and apparently wrestled the assassin to the ground.  He has written a number of books, including Needlepoint for Men, and has had some acting gigs as well.

My Army pal heard this and got into a conversation with the knitter about Rosie and what a great football player he was.  He remembered Grier's needlepoint interest and said "See?  That proves my point."  All of us nodded in agreement.

 

It was one of those subway rides that made me sorry I had to get off at Grand Central. 

Waiting For Superman

Among the many compelling subjects that should be the basis for deep conversation across our Nation right now, there is one that stands out as paramount: what we can and must do to fix our broken public education system.

If you want to get the overview on just how bad it is and the possible approaches to repair, go see "Waiting for Superman," the new brilliant film  directed by Davis Guggenheim.  I went with my friend Laurie Coots, the global Marketing Officer for the world-wide media agency TBWA.  Laurie says this film should be for education what "An Inconvenient Truth" was for Al Gore and the environmental movement.

 
She is right.  And it could be, especially because Guggenheim was the director of An Inconvenient Truth.  And he won an Oscar for it.

Will Superman have the same cachet and resonance?  Good question. Guggenheim knows his subject, as Al Gore did.  In fact Guggenheim made a first film in 1999 about public school teachers.  He knows the subject well and this time he's taken on the entire system.  The graphics, done by some group I've not heard of before called Awesome and Modest, are brilliant.  Their clever cartoons and visuals make it easy to understand data and concepts that would be otherwise hard to grasp.

The film follows five real children and their families as they deal with the lottery system set up in certain US cities to deal in as humane fashion as possible with the demand for places in these schools which far exceeds availability.  As you watch these kids going through the agony that--at least for the older ones--accompanies the knowledge that entrance into one of these schools can mean the difference between a successful life with employment and a life on the streets which appears to be the norm for kids stuck with the substandard public school in their neighborhood.

This isn't intended to be a whiner film.  It's a wakeup call just like "Inconvenient Truth" was.

 
And these filmmakers are savvy.  At the end of the film is a call to action.  Dial 77177 and you can get involved in helping shape the solution.  That reminds me of the tremendous pull of Obama's message and how the his campaign gurus tapped in to the excitement of young people in this country to put him in office to make a difference.  If we could get similar excitement on this topic of public school education, we'd be going a long way towards filling what many of us see as the innovation gap that is spreading between the US--once dominant in innovation--and others who in no time at all could be eating our lunch because their kids are getting better education, especially in science and math.

Even if great public schools in America don't produce more innovation (and I know they will) at least they'd raise the level of conversation taking place among young people.  There's not much to say when you read so poorly you can't get exposure to great writing and your math skills are so bad you can't get a job that requires you to add and subtract. 

Equating Glenn Gould and James Dean

Here's a challenge.  Run--do not walk--to a theatre to see the film about Glenn Gould, the classical pianist.  If it's not showing at a theatre near you, then get it on Netflix. 

Then, see if you can keep yourself from talking about it. I guarantee that you will have more than one conversation about what you've seen.  And you will feel compelled--as I do--to get others to see it, too.

It is an amazing story of an extraordinary man and the people close to him.  He was not only an iconic musician who had a rock star's looks and an instinct for creating a masterpiece every time he put his hands on a piano, or created a recording, or put together television commentaries.  His entire life was a performance in which he starred.  And his story will stay with you.

The opportunity to hear from those who knew and loved him is not to be missed.  Here's a trailer of the film to whet your appetite.

And by the way, the music itself...ah the music.  After my friend and I walked out of the Lincoln Plaza theatre here in Manhattan we got to the corner and were blasted with the radio on a convertible, turned to REALLY LOUD, playing rap music.  My first reaction was distaste.  Then I figure, wait a minute.  Glenn Gould even played around with some rock music with Petula Clark (remember her?  Her biggest hit was "Downtown").  He might have played with rap, too.

He put his own stamp on everything he touched.  You'll see he was a gifted conversationalist.  And yet was ultimately a solitary man, and an eccentric one.  In the words of George Szell, the conductor of the Cleveland Symphony who collaborated at one point with Gould, "This nut is a genius!". 

Conversations on New York Buses and Subways

Most New Yorkers talk only to their friends on subways.  They don't get Chatty Cathy with other riders.  For one thing, a large number of them are listening on their earphones to something or someone else, like these two sharing the subway with me yesterday.

In fact, there were six more people in my immediate vicinity who should also have been in that photo (and would be if I were a better photographer).  All had on earphones.

So it's not common that people strike up conversation unless, alas, it is to inform someone that his briefcase is hitting them, or her child is banging his toy on the seat next to them.  That kind of thing.

I'm an exception to the rule.  I get a kind of pleasure in testing the MTA's philosophy that courtesy is contagious so I say something friendly to someone near me and watch what happens.  Most often, they reply back in equally friendly fashion and sometimes others chime in as well...and we all step off the subway feeling just a little bit better than we did when we got on. 

Then there was this morning. Perhaps it's because when the UN is in session always makes New Yorkers a bit crazy.  Streets get blocked off to let dignitaries drive through without the hindrance of other traffic and if the President is in town (as he was yesterday) that inconvenience to those whose subway is slowed down, or whose bus is stuck waiting in stalled traffic can make for jangled nerves.  Perhaps that was the back story for the woman who insisted that she should somehow wedge herself into the subway car this morning when it was clearly already filled to capacity.  It wasn't quite the same as what occurs on Tokyo trains, but close.

It was obvious that the better move for this woman would have been for her to wait for the next train.  But no, she was determined to get on, she had to get on and she let us all know that it was highly important that she get on right now, regardless of whether her shoving herself into a too small space delayed the doors closing and regardless of whether her efforts were annoying and unpleasant to those around her. 

In situations like this, those in the vicinity of the activity usually just look at each other knowingly, maybe smile, communicating something like "Yea, isn't it ridiculous?" or "What a nut case."

So when I looked at a man near me and we smiled at each other, I thought it would end there.  But that's when he said "New York subways.  I wish I could win the Lotto."  He said volumes in those two sentences; for those of you who are not New Yorkers, he means.  "What a drag it is to take the subway every morning.  If I could just win the lottery, I would never have to be in this unpleasant situation again."  Everyone else around us who heard him nodded in that collective "Yeah, what a pain" kind of way.

My response was immediate.  I said "But you did win the Lotto!  You're living in New York!"  He was stunned.  He thought a minute, then looked back and me and said "Yeah, you're right.  It's a pretty fantastic place."  A conversation started among.  Yes, it's amazing how efficiently the subways usually run.  Yes, isn't it something that the UN can be in session and it all takes place right here.  Yeah, my friends back home in Illinois are jealous.

Then the doors opened at Grand Central and most of us got off.  I suspect most of us forgot the pushy woman.  Instead we remembered the conversation on the train with total strangers and, I like to think, most of us smiled to ourselves.

Global Conversaton with Eleanor Sebastian

Some people are global citizens.  They tend to speak at least a second language, to have lived at some point in a country other than the one where they were born, are interested in matters that extend beyond their hometown and thus have a perspective that embraces possibility.

Eleanor Sebastian is about as good an example as one could get.  Born in Romania, educated in Chile, employed in the United States and elsewhere (among other things, she now owns the TimeOut franchise for Bucharest), married to a senior executive whose travels took him all over the world (still do), and eventually having homes in Bucharest, London and New York, Eleanor speaks four (maybe it's five) languages fluently and uses them.  She is the only person I know who can tell jokes in multiple languages.  She has a global view of literally everything from the arts to politics to education to business.  And she is what I now call a "global friend."

As a global friend, Eleanor keeps up her relationships with people all over the world.  Not just the Christmas card sort of thing.  Because she travels extensively herself, she always makes sure that she keeps up her face-to-face connections with people wherever she is.  And she is the most generous person I know in sharing her contacts.  I was amazed some months ago when, in preparation for one of the Inner Circle programs I facilitate (it happened to be in London), I asked Eleanor who she knew--(senior executive or member of an important executive board of directors) and she came up with not one or two names, but a list of 10 including their contact information, plus a comment or two (here's an example, taken right out of her email, of her comment about a certain senior executive: "NRI (non resident Indian) incredibly successful businessman, keeps reinventing himself, from India to Russia and Eastern Europe and now Nigeria and others...I'll tell you more if he sounds right").  Every one on her list was qualified to attend the event in London and those I contacted were delighted to have been suggested by her.  

Because of her travels and her wide interest and continued education in so many areas, Eleanor is a terrific conversationalist.  She asks questions that pull others into the mix; she tells jokes about herself, she shares information on who is doing what where.  Not a gossip, she always knows the back story which gives her communications the right amount of context, of human understanding and empathy. 

With Eleanor, more is always more...the more she shares her friendships, the more friendships she has.  The more sincerely interested she is in her friends' activities, the more they are sure to include her in them. 

She is adored.  When she was in town this week a good friend of hers named Barbara Evans-Butler--whom I had not yet met--hosted a lunch for her for six of us whose connection was pretty much with Eleanor (some were relationships of twenty years or more), not with each other.  That was at the beginning of the lunch.  By the time it was concluded, we had agreed to meet again in New York for dinner in October.  Eleanor won't be there.  She'll be in London, or Latin America, or Bucharest or God knows where.  But then again, she will be, because it is around her we all met.  And we won't forget that. 

Starbucks Take Comfort In Rituals Campaign

Since Starbucks storefronts seem to be on so many corners these days (yes, I know they shut a number of them down last year but they seem to be sprouting again), it's possible you've seen their new campaign slogan, since it's posted larger than life on the front door of every store:  "Take Comfort in Rituals."

I guess that means that if you feel at all guilty about the fact that on a frequent, even daily, basis you indulge yourself in a cup of Starbucks coffee, you should feel good about it.  You haven't just formed a habit, you've graduated to a ritual.  And rituals are good things.  In fact, you should take comfort in the fact that you can't stay away from that grande latte whats-its-name.

That's good Brandversation.   It's just the kind of feel-good campaign that smacks of those things in life we hold dear: apple pie, country fairs, motherhood...now Starbucks coffee.

But somehow it bothers me and I'm trying to figure out why.  Maybe it's the sense that Starbucks is trying to make me justify my daily trek to the corner for a grande green tea latte, made with whole milk and no sweetener.   There is no way to justify this expenditure, regardless of how much Starbucks wants to make me feel good about it.  And I feel even more guilty now, having read the New York Post article sent to me by my friend in Hong Kong about billionaire Mayor Bloomberg who not only gets by with two pairs of shoes but also, in the words of his aide Stu Loeser, "when he buys a cup of coffee, he makes a point of choosing the smallest size.  He buys only what he wants to drink, only what he needs."

And I'll bet he doesn't ever order a grande green tea latte with whole milk and no sweetener.  He forgoes taking comfort in that ritual.  

Guess I've got to Bloomberg-ize my beverage consumption. 

But please, don't ask me to give up any of my shoes. 

Multitasking And Conversation: It Doesn't Work

I spent part of the weekend mulling over the impact of distraction on significant conversation.

Have you had the experience, when talking with someone on the phone, that he is checking his email while the two of you are talking?  Have you gone to a cocktail party where you engage in conversation with someone who is looking over your shoulder at who else is there?  Have you been in a meeting where people are checking their phones for text messages or emails while someone else is talking?  Have you found yourself talking with someone who is simultaneously listening on earphones to music?

We all know that multi-tasking is considered a skill.  In fact, we're told that without the ability to multi-task, one cannot make it in the commercial, professional world where many simultaneous demands make it necessary to perfect the skill of doing--literally--more than one thing at a time.

I'm convinced that no matter how skilled at multi-tasking a person is, it is not possible to engage in a significant conversation and do something--anything--else.  Significant conversation requires that one actively listen.  The reason that person checking emails while on the phone with you is not fully engaged in the conversation is that it's impossible to register information from a printed message while engaging deeply with what one is hearing.  Unless the focus of the listener is squarely on the speaker, the listener's attention is not complete enough to register appropriately the nuances, the arguments, the importance of what is being said. 

This may not sound new to you.  But after thinking about it over the weekend, I've found that it has significant ramifications.  If you want to be engaged in conversation--truly engaged--you can't be doing something else that requires your brain to be operating on two subjects at once.  It degrades the level of concentration.  Period.  

So it's not just good manners to refrain from checking emails or text messages in a meeting.  To do so while others are talking is to signal that you are not able to fully appreciate or process what is being said.  So if you have other things to do that prevent you from fully participating, you should not be there.  Give someone else your seat at the table. 

If you believe this as I do, you will not only adjust your own behavior regarding active listening, you will require others to do so as well.  Your time is important and if you don't have someone's full attention, better to ask them when they can give you their full attention than to attempt to get anything done when you have only a portion of their brain responding to what you're saying. 

There is a good reason to ask, when initiating a phone call "Is this a good time for you to talk with me?"  If the answer is no, schedule another time.  If the answer is yes, than if you feel the listener's attention is wandering, bring it back with a question.  Check in to see if conditions have changed on their end, perhaps by saying something like "Is this making sense to you?  Should we schedule a better time to discuss this, when you can give it your full attention?"

Perhaps the reason face to face conversation has become such a luxury is that we all understand that it requires the entire spectrum of the brain's attention.  That is asking a lot.  So especially where your work is involved, when you have given yourself the luxury to be engaged in conversation and the other person has given you the gift of their attention, make sure that you're making good use of their time and attention.   Do your homework beforehand so the time is well spent.  And be sure you listen as actively as you would like them to do. 

If you've listened carefully, you'll be able to make notes after your conversation and memorialize what was said so that you can build a valuable base of knowledge on their views and perspectives.  Every succeeding conversation can thus be even more valuable, building on what you already know.  And the other person will be grateful that you have valued their time and don't require a remedial aspect to the conversation to bring yourself up to speed about what they've already told you.

Make sense? 

NY City Ballet In Conversation With Audience

Amazing.  The New York City Ballet is experimenting with a new practice--having its dancers engage in conversation with members of the audience before the performance.  It's promoted as an effort to humanize the dancers, make ballet less remote an art.   The idea is that if people in the audience have a sense of who these dancers are, of seeing them as flesh and blood people like themselves, people will see ballet as a more accessible (read "worth buying a ticket for") activity.

One of the things Peter Martins said when interviewed about his instigation of this "talking dancers" experiment is that the public wants to know people, including artists of every kind. 

Hmmm.  What is this about?  Is it related to the phenomenon of people wanting to not only "know" celebrities, but to copy what they wear, even put one's own children into clothing that mimics how the stars are dressing their children?  Why do we do this?  Why the need to humanize performers, famous people of every stripe?

As Daniel Wakin, the NY Times writer reporting on the New York City Ballet practice says, "That desire has not escaped other institutions.  More and more, orchestra members are being asked to speak to audiences from the stage or mingle with them before and after concerts.  Microphones are making new inroads in sports, finding their way into boxing corners, locker rooms, race cars and dugouts during events.  Artists are increasingly aware of the need to explicate their work."

Could it be that the more we learn of how these artists, athletes, and other famous people think and feel personally not only about their work but about other matters as well, the more easily we feel we can relate to them, that we have a sense we "own" them the way people feel about rock stars and other stratospherically important people in the public domain? 

What does conversation with performers have to do with the way we feel about their art?