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Business Is Personal

November 28, 2012 Leave a comment

Slightly out of my usual ranty character on this blog, I’m publishing a piece I wrote for the Brandrepublic Career Blog which is going to be published in the next couple of weeks. I thought I’d cover it here too because it’s concerning my fundamentals about doing business – and indeed building relationships in all sorts of spheres, in which I think it’s crucial that you are true to yourself and the other people, and live out your beliefs.

Last month’s Online Adspend figures from the IAB give us some data to prove what we all know within the digital industry – not only is digital now the single largest part of all advertising spend (28% over TVs 26% of all advertising spending) but it continues to grow at a recession-defying pace.

With the advertising market overall predicted to grow by around 3% in 2012 (source), digital advertising jauntily grew by 12.6% year on year in the first half of 2012, with paid search maintaining its place as both the largest portion of this (59%) and the fastest growing (15.9% year on year).

This of course is great news for those of us in this industry – our jobs are relatively secure in a world where many other sectors are shedding staff in droves. What these figures don’t tell of course is the underlying story of staff churn and salary inflation created by these figures.

Having worked in digital since 1999, and agencies since 2005 I’ve been a grateful career benefactor of digital supply and demand, and also seen the impact of these issues first hand as manager of digital and search agency teams.

When I joined MediaCom to run the UK paid search department in 2011 I inherited a team of 38 people that had been churning at a rate of over 75% for the last two years.  The reasons were many but not unfamiliar – a great training ground created a bank of very employable staff, who were approached weekly by recruitment consultants/other agencies and offered hugely tempting salaries – which are easy to afford if you don’t have to fund the costs of training or unproductivity for new and management staff during the training process.

Add this to the youth of the agency sector and the fact that most graduates start with a huge debt burden, and it’s not surprising we have the perfect storm for huge staff churn, with all its negative effects on team morale, consistency in client work and time spent recruiting rather than making our teams and our work better.

My approach has always been to treat business as personal. Every decision that we make has an impact on our colleagues, clients and the wider community and it pays to remember that the people you meet will be around to help or hinder you for the rest of your career. Now that any mishap in business or personal life can also be broadcast across the entire Twittersphere within moments, it’s even more important that we are personally involved and authentic in all our professional relationships –besides – who wants to live 1/3 of every day as someone you’re not?

It can’t all be lovely fluffiness of course – we all have bills to pay and clients to service – so for this reason when managing a team I use a two pronged approach to all people management tasks:

Structural foundation: No organisation can work without the building blocks of what, who, and how. Each role within a team needs to have a job description, a personalised set of objectives for each member (based on their client mix, their skills and career aims, and the market’s possibilities), that ensure that the client’s and business needs are fulfilled.

In something as fast changing as digital, with new technologies and partners, the operational tasks that make up the objectives are likely to be changing on a regular basis, so as a minimum 1:1s are needed every 3 months to check that things are on track and the world hasn’t changed under our feet. The detail of the steps may change but career progression needs to be clearly signposted and recognised when it is achieved. Nothing is more demotivating than running just to keep still.

The personal approach: One of the best known theories in psychology is Maslow’s hierarchy of needs in which Maslow contends that once we satisfy our basic physical needs (food, shelter), we move onto satisfying social and status needs, and finally work our way through to self-actualisation – and hopefully finding a real purpose in our lives. Taking the workplace as a microcosm of society, we can have people at multiple levels of this hierarchy within any one team, and crucially it will not necessarily correlate to their career maturity. There will be some who are grateful to just have an income, those who desperately need more money, some who embrace the new and require fast progression or a new job title, and those who need flexibility around their family needs or just want to be with their friends. As a manager our role is to figure out what each team member’s drivers are, and how to satisfy those within the realms of our professional and personal capabilities.

The point is that there is no all encompassing perfect approach – it is different for each member of staff, and keeping up with them all certainly keeps us on our feet. Happily my tenure at MediaCom search saw the staff churn levels from 75% to 28% within less than two years, so I am taking that as a sign of success.

Oh, and remember – you can’t win them all. When people do leave; as they sometimes will for reasons outside your control; let them leave with a smile. You will come across them again – I promise – and you’ll be glad to.

Our annoyingly smug wedding story

September 22, 2012 2 comments

Partly for posterity, and partly as I found myself telling it again for the umpteenth time, I thought it was time to capture the details of our amazing wedding-the details of which have amused many a traumatised engaged couple over the years.

The story begins in my usual way, with an anally retentively well planned day: spreadsheets aplenty, many venues visited and a slight disappointment in finding out that we couldn’t get married on a moving boat (they have to be permanently moored, to allow for any random member of the public to object at the opportune moment-not that just anyone would gain entry anyway these days so a slightly pointless tradition put paid to my maritime flirtations. Back on land we finally decided on Kensington Roof Gardens, it being a) gorgeous b) in central London so easy for people from all over the place and c) able to host both the ceremony plus reception, presenting less chance of decrepit Leeds relatives getting lost and wandering around “That London” to be picked up by police in between ceremony and champagne.

So, in January 2000 we booked our slot, paid our deposit and settled down to be sold to by glossy magazines for the next 15 months until the planned day in May 2001.

Bored of choosing favours (what?) and everyone involved in commerce’s eyes lighting up as if with cartoon currency signs the minute we mentioned weddings we bailed out early and decided to go on a pre-wedding Oz/Asia ‘honeymoon’ for 6 months over the winter (aided by the timely profits from a shoebox I bought in 1993). This turned out to be the best thing we could have done at that stage-rather than stressing ourselves and destroying our relationship with endless details and frippery, we spent 6 months wondering along beaches, chilling out in hippy traveller cafes and re-discovering the joy of meeting someone or something new every day. We also saved a wodge of cash on my wedding and the bridesmaids dresses-made for under $100 for the lot, in silk, in Hoi An, Vietnam and posted back in an amusing Vietnamese post office adventure that took around 3 hours, 2 rolls of sellotape and gave us a free Vietnamese Post Office t-shirt as a thank you.

Arriving back home in March – a bit dusty and having fallen for the myth that Thai Red Bull t-shirts and fishermen’s pants were acceptable items of clothing; we thought we were in plenty of time for last minute wedding arrangements. Even the seeming reluctance of the Roof Gardens to set a date for our menu tasting didn’t worry us. We knew there had been a refurbishment over the winter (building a whole new floor it seems, for what is now Babylon restaurant) and that plenty of time had been left for over-runs, so we carried on with our lives, found and started new jobs and settled back into London life.
Little did we know then that the refurb had hit several problems, one of which I think was the discovery of asbestos, meaning the work took months longer than planned-threatening ours and one other wedding, which were the first events booked there for early May (after a January planned finish date).
So, we carried on not knowing, and when the missive of doom finally came we were floored. Since arriving home we’d stepped back onto the frenzied wedding juggernaut in which any mishap is blown up to represent the end of life as we know it. Even factoring in wedding planning paranoia this was a pretty big crisis.

The Roof Gardens refurbishment had only just finished, the kitchens weren’t ready and it all still had to be signed off for health and safety, Without this we couldn’t even use it as a room, never mind restaurant- so there was no way we could get married or have the reception there.

Big problem. Huge.

Several issues meant a replacement venue would be difficult to find:
1) we’d booked a Sunday wedding on a bank holiday weekend
2) we wanted the ceremony & reception in the same place and
3) we had 13 working days left before the wedding
4) we lived in Lewisham borough, and were getting married in Kensington & Chelsea (meaning we had to post our banns locally 10 working days before the wedding for us to legally marry)
Therefore we had 3 days to find a new venue.

3 days!!!

Anyone who’s planned a wedding will come out in a cold sweat at this thought, and believe me this was my reaction too, and terror, and fury.

And tears… many many tears.

It was at this point that events took on a bit of a surreal tint. Peter, the events manager was on the phone apologising for the venue not being ready, and he said something odd; “Richard is aware of the problem and wants to do all he can to help.”
To which I answered “Richard? Richard who?”
“Richard Branson.”
“Am I missing something? Why does Richard Branson give a shit about my wedding?”
“Well. We’re part of the Virgin group.”

Being that I work in media I did immediately think “Oh good, I’m sure he’ll do something as he’d hate bad publicity” (mental image of weeping bride on the front page of a red top), which in retrospect was ungenerous of me, as I had no idea of the extent to which Richard would become our fairy godmother over the next few days.

So Peter said he’d had some thoughts and he’d send a car around to pick me and Jules up from work that evening to show us some potential replacement venues. This in itself was a treat as we certainly aren’t the kind of people who have access to drivers at our beck and call, so we said something along the lines of “Ooooh, thanks.” and prepared for a new experience.

The car ushered us to some posh part of London I’d never been to, and pulled up in front of a *massive* white Georgian house, all beautiful dimensions and manicured gardens. We got out of the car, ran up the drive avoiding the rain, were let in the front door and as we were shaking our brollies in the hall Peter called around the doorway into a room we couldn’t yet see; “Richard, they’re here!”

We looked at each other. Seriously? Was this real?

Giggling we followed Peter into the house, to be met by non other than Richard Branson himself. Smiling, (wearing an appalling Giles Brandreth-esque jumper), shaking our hands and saying “Mel, Jules.. I am so sorry we didn’t get things ready for you in time.
May I offer you some champagne?”

We drank champers with Richard Branson as he said sorry, and (still unbelievable 11 years later) offered us his house as a potential reception venue. He then had to go off and do something far more stimulating than watching two star struck idiots stumble over their words, but we were shown where the marquee could be in the garden, where the cloakrooms would be, and stood in his lounge where our guests would later gather, looking at family photos on the walls, and plastic plane models on top of the telly and just grinned.

And yes, he did it. We had our wedding reception at Richard Branson’s house.

Peter also found us a glorious licensed ceremony venue in the 10th floor bar at the Royal Garden Hotel a skip away from the original venue, laid on double decker buses to take us from there to the Branson residence in Holland Park (oh yes) where we partied the rest of the day away, surrounded by immense joy and a very overwhelmed set of family and friends- who still to this day hark back to that wonderful day.

And the lashings of free booze they threw in as an extra sorry.

Oh I know.

I know he’s rich, and I know it’s not his only home but he didn’t have to greet us personally, or offer what was clearly one of his family homes for us to use… and that is why I always smile when I think of Virgin.

Thank you Richard!

The riots: my tuppenceworth

August 21, 2011 2 comments

I’m not sure I’ve ever known so many people get so passionate about politics, parenting, social issues, crime, race and policing, so in a way I’m glad the London/UK riots have stimulated a lot of passionate debate. There is nothing more worrying to me than people who either refuse or see no point in getting involved or having an opinion about politics; saying “It won’t change anything”.

Many of the contributory factors to the riots were political, and we’ve already seen that the discourse and proposed (many draconian) responses will be, so it’s important to understand the political context behind issues like this in order to go any way to solving them (as all parties have previously stated- David Cameron of course has conveniently forgotten his understanding/humanity of yesteryear, of course).

So, firstly I’m saddened.

Sad that shopkeepers in run down areas, with probably no stock insurance won’t be able to regain their livelihoods, adding to the shuttered up blight.

Sad that in the same world where millions in east Africa are at risk of dying of hunger (I blame corrupt govt and religious anti-condom rhetoric for much of that) we have people who have so little context on hardship that they loot their own neighbourhood and pretend that they’re getting what they deserve.

Sad that the media blaming frenzy includes bigotry of almost every shade, and in almost every instance fails to grasp that violence, frustration, bandwagon profiteering and cruelty are neither new nor confined to the poor, unmarried, young, black or any other sector of society.

I’m also heartened by the massive movement of people involved in the #riotcleanup. Hundreds of people with brooms, dustpans and brushes turning up in Clapham, Hackney and across the country, to make good the damage other people caused brings a smile to my face and a little leap to my heart.

For what it’s worth, I have a political theory. I think the riots can be traced back to the selling of council houses. The crucial accompanying theory is my belief that between the carrot and the stick; the carrot seems a much more effective way of maintaining social norms than the stick. The fear of official punishment is often a lot less than the quest for peer approval. So instead of vast police numbers, spending a fortune on jails and punishment, (or maybe an effective addition to) the answer could be in getting society to help to maintain those standards, right?

Here’s the thing: for hundreds of years there have been strong communities of relatively poor (some may say average, as judged by the standards of the past) who lived in subsidised council housing for their entire lives. They knew their neighbours, their parents, extended family, friends from school, staff from local shops all lived in the local area.

My paternal family came from exactly such stock. I remember my Nan in Leeds telling me (on many occasions) that when a new council estate was built, she and my Grandad were proud that their family were invited to be tenants, as they had looked after their previous council house so well, and been model tenants. They were very poor-bringing up 4 kids on one unskilled wage- my grandad went from being a barber to eventually working for decades at the Tetley brewery, but they were proud, clean, law abiding and have turned out, at last count 19 descendants of varying levels of education, but all of whom are working, law abiding and grateful for the chances they have been given. Amongst all of us, the fear of parental, family and social disapproval is a far greater disincentive to crime than the tiny chance of being caught.

So, what happened when council houses were sold off? One family, often from the exact same stock as mine, gain a goldmine-a foot on the ladder, a sense of ownership and a stake in their financial future. But as the houses were sold and not replaced, and the original buyers move on; sometimes making a healthy profit along the way the community changes. The estates where everyone knew each other now have various houses split into privately rented flats (better rental return that way) with transient tenants in. The inflating housing bubble-exascerbated by the lack of affordable long term rental property, makes the privately owned ex-council stock the only property reachable for first time buyers, who move in for a few years – never intending to make this their home or where they raise their family. After a few years of decreasing social connections/pride, a few of the houses get a bit run down, then the only landlords interested are the low level private landlords who rent out ex council property for more than the council would, in a worse state of repair.

Now we get into the much touted ‘broken windows’ theory. Once a neighbourhood goes this way, it’s incredibly hard to regain its social glue, and meanwhile all the people living within it have a constantly reducing sense of social collective responsibility, and the results are clear.

None of this is to say that parents, schools, stop-and-search and ASBOs, unemployment, despair and a materially driven media don’t bear some responsibility; but in Africa they say “It takes a whole village to bring up a child” and where one or more of the above are failing, having no social safety net is hardly the way to learn that society includes you.

ASLs, cycling, scooters and a bit of empathy

October 13, 2010 3 comments

Okay, I know how passionate cyclists are about cycle lanes etc, and I’m probably going to be (virtually) lynched for saying this, but I don’t get the problem with scooters & motorbikes courteously going in cycle lanes or past the advanced stop line. I do get massively annoyed by cars/buses and lorries though, sitting happily across it without even a passing thought for other road users.

Advanced stop lines for cyclists

Here’s a reminder below for those who don’t know what an advanced stop line  is (it’s not there so that you are slowed down – it’s there to place the cyclists in  full view of the rest of the traffic, as this awareness has been proven time and  again to be the best way to improve riser safety)

In the interests of total transparency I have to state that I’ve been either a  pedestrian, scooter driver, cyclist, train commuter or car driver (or more  than one during the course of any one week) for the last 17 years in London,  and hence do try to look at road issues with a relatively objective view.

 

I’m well aware of the frustrations of London traffic, and how vulnerable you feel on a cycle or scooter, but I’m always a bit concerned about the apparent lack of understanding, nay sometimes hatred, between cyclists and PTWs (powered two wheelers- easier than saying ‘motorbikes or scooters’). I think we’d all get a better reception from car drivers, traffic planners and the media if we spoke as one, and shared our very similar experiences of feeling vulnerable, being verbally abused, hounded off the road and/or ignored.

Personally I am convinced that the single best way to create understanding amongst road users is to make the car driving test include a mandatory cycling proficiency test, and the CBT (compulsory basic training – all PTW drivers have to do it before they’re allowed out on the road even with L- plates).

Unlike many cyclists/PTW riders I don’t think that all car drivers are evil selfish bastards, out to kill us (although my experience out there often feels like they are); instead I think that they seriously just don’t understand what it’s like to be on a two wheeler, and we could solve the majority of the issues by just getting them to experience it from the rider’s saddle.

For good measure, it can’t hurt to make both cyclists and car drivers sit in the cab of a lorry, so that they can understand the concept of ‘blind spot’.

Before I get roundly beaten up by cyclists who say PTW riders are aggressive and dangerous- note that I did use the word ‘courteously’ for people using cycle lanes etc – it would do us all good to be aware of people more vulnerable than us (yes, cyclists, those people called pedestrians who you scare out of their skin sometimes).

Mel Mack’s abridged highway code:

  • ALWAYS be on guard for those more vulnerable than you
  • Remember not everyone has an engine and they may be going as fast as they can.
  • Car drivers
    • stop thinking of riders of any 2 wheeled vehicle as nuisances who make you set off from junctions a bit slower. It may help with context if you imagine how much worse your journey would have been if each of those people had chosen to drive a car instead.
    • use your bloody indicators- the rest of us are NOT psychic
  • Pedestrians: look carefully before crossing
    • cars take TIME to stop at zebra crossings
    • bikes may be weaving between stationary traffic
  • Everyone:
  • The more exposed your method of transport is, the more vulnerable you are, so take responsibility for your safety- assume people won’t see you, wear high vis clothing and if in doubt, don’t take chances.

Pregnant or fat – what bloody dilemma?

October 3, 2010 2 comments

I had a random conversation on Facebook recently about public transport seating, and the horrible middle-class dilemma of whether to offer your seat or not

Please give up your seat for someone less able to stand

New tube priority seating signs.

and I had to hold back from just shouting at people, especially when I read some of the comments on the BBC article about it. This one, for instance:

I will gladly offer my seat to an elderly person , I believe that you choose to get pregnant , but aging is one thing you cant avoid! I’m 31 and anyone that is obviously older than me gets offered my seat , but pregnant people … not !
Kevin, London

I hope Kevin never gets close enough to a woman to be able to make her pregnant – he has clearly forgotten/not been taught biology well enough to realise that he also is of woman born, and therefore made her back ache too at one point. Enough of misogynistic ignorant wankers, however, as their existence, though annoying, is incidental to this story.

The prevailing thought seems to be that as it’s sometimes difficult to tell whether someone’s pregnant or not (or fat, yes, just say it), there are legions of otherwise altruistic people out there who would jump at the opportunity to offer their seat to someone less able than them, but they’re traumatised at the potential of embarrassing someone by offering them a seat, as if they’re not actually pregnant, this will inadvertently be calling them fat.

To this I say utter bollocks.

I’ve stood there, heavily pregnant (and obviously so), and been looked straight through, and I’m neither surprised or offended at all by it. There’s no reason that pregnant women, old people, or anyone else should have the automatic right to a seat. Others may be suffering far more discomfort from an outwardly invisible knee injury, other illness or even, heaven forbid, an hangover.

What I am saying is that this fake guilt to cover up the fact that none of us really want to give up our seat, is exactly that – fake.

I’ve been commuting in London for 17 years and it’s a war out there – nobody enjoys the squeeze of the tube or the rush hour trains & buses, it’s thoroughly unpleasant, and I daresay we are all sometimes guilty of “I thought I could get away with it and hoped they wouldn’t notice me looking shiftily away.”

It’s not surprising that involuntary close contact with hundreds of strangers makes us guard our personal space so carefully. One of the methods we use is to have a book to read, or studiously avoiding eye contact – not surprising then that we sometimes miss the tell-tale signs of someone else’s greater need than ours.

That said, I am amazed when the occasional man tells me a story of a woman who has rudely refused an offer on the basis that it’s old fashioned/patronising – both at the woman that supposedly threw the offer back in their faces (sister, what are you doing??!!) and the man for taking this as a sign that all women will henceforward be like that. Is it ungenerous to suspect they’re slightly relieved to have an excuse never to offer again? 😉

My feminist sisterhood hackles are also raised by women who remain glued to their seat (older women are actually the worst offenders) in the face of a pregnant woman in obvious discomfort.

In reality we just have to accept that it’s supremely arrogant of us to expect anyone/everyone else in the same carriage/bus to a) notice us or b) care.

I know only too well that it’s hard to think of anything else when you’re pregnant, and it does sometimes feel like the entire planet wants to queue up and coo, guess the gender and stroke the bump, uninvited; but there remains a huge percentage of the population who are untouched by your own personal miracle, and just want to get to work on time without interacting with anyone too rude or smelly.

Baby on Board BadgeSo, take responsibility for yourselves, ladies. For a start you can now pick up from any underground station, a badge that says “Baby On Board. That takes away any excuses of those that do actually look at you.

For the people who don’t notice/hope someone else will stand up, there is always the tried and tested way that I used – walk up to a set of 4 or 6 seats (giving yourself the best chance by not putting just one person on the spot) and say “Excuse me, I’m heavily pregnant and uncomfortable, would anyone mind me sitting down?”. Not once did this fail me, and was usually met this choruses of “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.” True or not, they have an excuse, and you now have a seat. Win:win 🙂

For those who still have a slight quandary, just bloody well offer your seat will you – if you’re really that bothered by it, why not offer your seat and not make it obvious why? A simple “Would you like to sit down?” doesn’t bear any social stigma for anyone, and will spare you the non-existent cringe factor.

Smashing the Spinning Jenny

September 6, 2010 Leave a comment

The concept of Luddism came up in conversation today (in context of when discussing the immovable Tube unions who hold London to ransom on an alarmingly regular basis – get with it guys, or you’ll be replaced with tech – have you seen the DLR???).

In view of this, plus some hugely funny tweets from #clientsfh (clients from hell) made me cast my mind back to one of the classic moments of tech stupidity back in (what is now) the olden days.

be still my beating heart ;)

The year was 1997. I was working in the ad sales team for Internet World magazine at publisher VNU, and received a very furious complaint telephone call as follows:

Him:

I have a complaint about one of your advertisers

Me:

OK, which one? Can you tell me which ad is the problem?

Him:

Page 88 [the classified pages at the back], the one at the top right.

Pause for me to shuffle through the magazine in question and find the ad, which is for a porn bulletin board – headline of “Free sexy images” or somesuch.

Me:

OK, I’ve found the ad you mean, what seems to be the problem?

Him:

Well, I call the number on the advert and all I get is a screechy noise

Me:

Oh. [starting to grin to myself] That’s because the number advertised is the one you’re supposed to connect to with your modem

Him:

What’s a modem?

Me:

It’s the thing you use to connect your computer to the internet.

Him:

(blustering) Well, I haven’t got a computer!

Me:

So, why are you reading Internet World magazine then?

Him:

I picked it up in the doctor’s surgery.

He remained furious right until the end, and seemed unembarrassed about the fact that he was so furious because he’d been denied his access to free porn.

Needless to say that by the end of the call I had the phone on loudspeaker mode with my colleagues and I crying with laughter in the office. Definitely better than any CD-tray-as-cupholder urban myths – and one that actually happened to me.

Two wheels good?

August 22, 2010 1 comment

I write this in my third week of using the new London hire bikes, and must say I’m hugely impressed.

Trying to get rid of the post baby fat hasn’t been easy due to mad timing schedules whilst commuting and working, so this seems like a great way to fit the exercise around a trip I have to do anyway.

For those who haven’t given them a go yet, this is the scoop:

  • At the moment it’s open to “Pioneer” (beta) members – anyone over 18 who has a UK registered credit card and an address to receive the key fobs can register, but it’s worth remembering that it’s still the trial period so a little patience is needed – it’s not perfect yet.
  • Members pay for three things:
  1. £3 deposit for the key fob (like you do for an oyster card)
  2. Access fee. This ranges from £1/day, to £5/week or £45/year. These can be set to automatically refresh, so what I did before I was convinced I’d use it that much was sign up for the £1/day membership on auto renew. The 24 hours starts when you first put your fob in the cycle dock. I’ve now used it so much that I’ve upgraded to annual membership already.
  3. Hire charge: This is free for the first 30 minutes, and you’ll find that this is more than adequate most inner London rides. £1 for 30 mins-an hour, then £4 for up to an hour and a half. They’re clearly setting the charges like this purposely to encourage short hops rather than longer journeys/stops on the way, and I haven’t had to pay a hire charge yet.
  • Once you’ve paid the deposit & access fee, you can use the bike as many times as you like within that period, so if you do three journeys in a day, each 30 mins or less, they’re still all free of hire fees, so all you pay is your access fee of £1 (or equivalent of less if you’ve signed up for a week/year).
  • In a few weeks/once issues have been ironed out it’ll be open to casual members; who will be able to swipe their credit card at the docking station.
  • There are loads of docking stations around central London, although there seems to be a huge gap around Covent Garden. It seems that the locals have dreamt up ridiculous nimby-ish excuses for not wanting the docks nearby, but I’m hoping this will change.
  • There are no locks or helmets provided, so you need to take a helmet with you if you want to wear one, and make sure you dock the bike in a docking station rather than leave it somewhere while you have a coffee.
  • If you’re not a confident London rider then take your time planning your route and stay on back roads. There are tons of them and it’s actually really pleasant to discover lots of lovely leafy Georgian squares and residential streets, 2 mins from a heaving multitude.
  • Free maps of docking stations can be found here.
  • There’s also a free iPhone app, which shows you where the docking stations are, but also how many are full/free in realtime.
  • If you arrive at a docking station and there are no bikes left, or no docking stations free to park your bike, you can find out the closest other docking stations on the info screen on the dock. If you arrive and can’t dock your bike your access period is also extended by 15 mins so that you’re not paying extra because you couldn’t find a dock in time.
  • Until the usage trends and logistics are learned and understood, there will inevitably be docks near train stations emptying with commuters, and those near offices filling up to bursting, meaning bikes won’t always be where they’re wanted at any one time. There are little lorries with trailers going around the docks specifically to redistribute them as necessary, but it’s going to take some time until they have it totally smooth.

I’m chuffed to bits – have done loads more exercise, turned up quicker (if a bit sweaty) to most appointments and enjoyed the process rather than cursing on the tube.

Give it a try!