Tempted as I am to immediately throw myself from a great and unlearned height into the debate as to whether a recent portrait is really that of Wm Shakespeare Esq., I shall refrain and stick to a topic which has been tunnelling its Colditz like way to the surface of the mind of late.
When I was paying perfunctory attention to accounting lectures during the abortive MBA (More Best Ale), the concept of "goodwill" as a balance sheet item swam fleetingly before my shortest of attention spans. (It was so short, you couldn't have bridged a stream with it, but no matter.) "Goodwill" was, I think, an asset and was to be included in the prospective sale price of any business.
What an understatement. The intervening 35 years - and my esteemed other half of Lynchpin, David Hudson - have taught me that goodwill is a sine qua non of both business and personal life. And it is a lesson which many of the "Me Number One" and now the "Me Too" generation are learning the very hard way.
At its simplest, goodwill is but an extension of the courtesy which has capped a few of these columns in months past. There are a blessed few who are born with a Rebecca-like sunny nature and are well disposed towards their fellows, but few they are and few they shall remain. (And no, it's nothing to do with the silver spoon in the newborn mouth, since you ask.) But there are some who have either learnt by example or have worked out for themselves - I hate the word "intuit" as a verb; an intuit lives north of Hudson Bay - that goodwill is not only the balm of social intercourse: it makes the world go round a helluva sight more smoothly than money.
And most blessed of all are those who have overcome their natural predisposition to the all too human cynicism which prolonged exposure to homo sapiens' less attractive mores induces. Probably best exemplified by the awful but memorable sight and sound of Eric Idle singing "Always look on the bright side of life" on the cross in "The Life of Brian", the conscious determination to begin orienteering any relationship with the compass of trust and the map of good cheer is in many ways as courageous as going on night duty in the South Side, armed only with a swagger stick and a fast tongue.
And goodwill brings it own rewards - see Scrooge E, Dickens C et al. In our tourism business, the patent desire to help, to enourage, to put the other fellow's need and ambitions above your own for a while soon becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I could give you many, many examples but we (David and I) now find ourselves cautiously treading places to which we always aspired - but only in those mad moments on the road or in the bar where we thought no-one could hear.
Unwittingly - and probably unintentionally - we now find ourselves being invited to functions, being asked for market intelligence and yes, even consulted on business plans by people and organisations whom we once thought would send us to the tradesmans' entrance, if any. And why?
Because we pay our bills on time; because we answer our emails; because we thank people for their efforts; because we apologise if we cannot help but try to at least offer a lead to someone else; because we remonstrate quietly and civilly on the rare occasions where things ain't wot they should be but mostly because we don't shout and scream and demand but quietly try to understand that other people are under pressure, too.
No doubt there are many who feel that we undersell ourselves; that our self-promotion is distinctly Minor League; that our reticence makes us retards. Let me close with a story: we were introducing our wonderful webman to the delights of the Crown Bar in Belfast when he offered to include a filter on our home page to detect and deter "undesirables". Says I: "John, what percentage of the visitors to our site appreciate the dry wit which perfuses the copy, as opposed to infusing the coffee?" Says he: Very few. A very select few."
"And you need another filter?" said I. There is an apocryphal story that Frank Sinatra once sang "The Sash" in that very same bar. Well, maybe he did and maybe he didn't, but he sure as hell sang "I did it my way". And quite right, too. And goodwill will spin its own gold, in its own good time.
Lieber Lowell
Eben habe ich deinen sehr persönlichen Beitrag zu Nordirland gelesen. Er hat mich berührt. Danke sehr dafür und alles Gute Verena
Posted by: Verena aeschbacher | June 15, 2009 at 10:53 AM
Hallo Lowell
Was macht Ihr im hohen Norden? Habe schon lange nichts mehr von Dir gehört!
Einen schönen Tag und herzliche Grüsse
Verena
Posted by: Aeschbacher, Verena | June 15, 2009 at 10:55 AM