BIG F****** PROBLEM AT THE LEVER LAUNCH CONFERENCE
It was the early 1990’s and personal computers had just
appeared on our desks in India. Yes, in
the JWT Bombay creative department there were already a couple of secretaries
on early word processors which would spit out your copy -- dot matrix printed
on continuous stationery -- but I cherished my Olivetti portable, the symbol of
a senior writer. I even had an art guy
hand letter the word ‘tripewriter’ on it.
To my dismay, this was replaced by a PC and we were all
dragged (some kicking and screaming) into the digital age. I soon found that I was not alone in being
wary of this infernal new device.
It was the day before the Unilever launch conference. A new variant of Lux soap was being presented
to the sales force. We were going all
out – the TV commercials were being screened.
New product details were being communicated through an
audio-visual-cum-skit being enacted by the marketing team and an agency guy or
two. Various big wigs would make
PowerPoint presentations -- as the Unilever people had also received their new
PCs recently.
I was sitting serenely in my cabin, secure in the knowledge
that all was ready -- the skit rehearsed, props and backdrops inspected, TVCs
cued on U-Matic – when the senior account management guy walked in. I looked at his face and asked, “Problem?”
“Big F****** Problem,” he said.
The Head of Personal Products (let’s call him HOPP) was an
extremely senior man, very good at his job, but being Punjabi apt to lose his
cool if things weren’t going his way.
HOPP was going to make the key presentation at the launch. HOPP was also computer illiterate. In fact, he had never used a computer
keyboard.
“No problem,” says I, “Let him do it on slides – there must
be a Kodak Carousel lying around.”
“No,” says account management, “He wants to show people that
he’s up to date with new technology. It
has to be a PPT. The only problem is
that he keeps pressing the wrong buttons on the keyboard and the PPT stalls. Every.
Single. Time. And in the semi-darkness of the conference
hall, it will be worse.”
As creative head on the Unilever business, I had all sorts
of issues land in my lap, but the Big F****** Problem was singular. A solution emerged 6 hours before the
show. I got a finishing artist to make a
cover out of stiff cardboard – boxboard it was called – that fit over the
keyboard exactly. Then a small square
was cut out to expose the Page Down key.
It was the only button that could be touched.
After the show I received accolades – not for the TVCs, not
for the AV-cum-skit, but for having dealt with the Big F****** Problem.
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