News that Donald G. Fisher, co-founder with his wife, Doris, of Gap, died on Sunday at age 81 leaves another void in the firmament of retail industry stars.
Too many retailers today are logistics mavens, practitioners of the art of distribution, not merchandising. The Fisher started Gap because they perceived a customer need. In this case, their own. They couldn’t find jeans that fit. Reasoning that others shared their quandary, they opened the first Gap store in San Francisco in 1969. The rest, as the saying goes, is history. Gap went on to become a worldwide icon in the retailing industry. Sales last year exceeded $14.5 billion.
One of Fisher’s best decisions was to hire Millard (Mickey) S. Drexler as president and CEO of the Gap division in 1983. Fisher realized his limitations as an entrepreneur. At the time Gap was languishing, without anything that differentiated it from other stores that sold Levis jeans. Drexler went on to become CEO of the entire company, leading the transformation of Gap into a global private label brand, expanding Banana Republic and launching Old Navy, the fastest retailer to achieve $1 billion in sales.
Fisher’s worst decision was to fire Drexler in 2002 after the latter’s magic touch seemed to elude him for several quarters. Drexler landed at J. Crew. He resurrected that brand into one of retailing’s hottest companies while Gap’s results have continued to be uneven, at best.
I was the prototypical target customer for Gap and Banana Republic, but truth be told I have bought nary an item from either store. Their merchandise just doesn’t fit me well. Interestingly, one of the few purchases I do remember making, at a Gap outlet store, were several pairs of white, black and blue crew socks. I’ve actually done better at Old Navy. I’m sitting at my desk now wearing a pair of Old Navy carpenter jeans.
Not being a slave to retail’s category leaders is nothing new to me. I rarely step inside two of the most ubiquitous chains. Not being a frequent coffee drinker, I never became a devotee of Starbucks (or any of the other chains seeking to decaffeinate Starbucks’ hold on the java drinker). And though I’m a big old movie fan, I have been only a casual customer of Blockbuster.
But not being a solid Gap customer did not prevent me from observing the store for three decades as an editor of a retail business publication. Few companies have had the transformative effect Gap had. And Don Fisher was the man who started it all.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Collarel Damage
Yes, yes, I know the correct phrase for the headline is “collateral damage.” Retirement doesn’t diminish your grammatical skills.
I chose to be cute with the headline as a way of revealing an unintended consequence of my no socks regimen.
It seems that after one and a half days of wearing socks—part of a traditional synagogue garb for Yom Kippur services that included a collared shirt and tie—my neck is chafed.
Now don’t go blaming it on a fatter neck. I haven’t gained any weight. Nor is my shirt collar sized too small. Apparently my neck no longer is used to being constrained by oxford or broadcloth shirts cinched together at the neck by a tie.
Actually, the anti-tie disposition predates my no socks retirement. My former employer went everyday dress down several months before I retired. So I’ve been tie-less for quite some time.
But it sounded a lot better to link no socks with an irritated neck, and therein lies a cautionary tale for any budding journalists out there, and their audience. If your source does not provide full disclosure, often it is most difficult to ascertain the truth, the proper sequence or relationship of events. For those old enough to remember, think Gulf of Tonkin resolution (for those not old enough to remember, look it up and gain further understanding of our lingering Vietnam legacy).
When truth is obscured, or fudged, we all suffer, individually and collectively.
I chose to be cute with the headline as a way of revealing an unintended consequence of my no socks regimen.
It seems that after one and a half days of wearing socks—part of a traditional synagogue garb for Yom Kippur services that included a collared shirt and tie—my neck is chafed.
Now don’t go blaming it on a fatter neck. I haven’t gained any weight. Nor is my shirt collar sized too small. Apparently my neck no longer is used to being constrained by oxford or broadcloth shirts cinched together at the neck by a tie.
Actually, the anti-tie disposition predates my no socks retirement. My former employer went everyday dress down several months before I retired. So I’ve been tie-less for quite some time.
But it sounded a lot better to link no socks with an irritated neck, and therein lies a cautionary tale for any budding journalists out there, and their audience. If your source does not provide full disclosure, often it is most difficult to ascertain the truth, the proper sequence or relationship of events. For those old enough to remember, think Gulf of Tonkin resolution (for those not old enough to remember, look it up and gain further understanding of our lingering Vietnam legacy).
When truth is obscured, or fudged, we all suffer, individually and collectively.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Birdman of White Plains
The hummingbirds have flown south for the winter.
This summer I became a multi-dimensional birdman. I’ve had a birdfeeder for years, a large gazebo-type structure sitting atop a pole which every year gradually leaned over so much because of the soft soil underneath that it was impossible to use.
This year I finally decided to hang the gazebo from a tree limb easily viewed from our kitchen windows. The birds loved it. So did I. Sparrows, starlings, finches, robins, cardinals, blue jays—all manner of birdlife came to our yard.
But birds being birds, they too often scared each other off. The gazebo’s openness was just too inviting a perch. In their rush for a seat at the table they spooked those already eating to swiftly depart. And it was too easy to create a mess underneath. Almost as much seed wound up on the ground than inside the gazebo. The birds didn’t mind. They became bottom feeders, though they did have to share the bounty with squirrels and chipmunks. A circle of scratched earth where grass used to grow surfaced underneath the birdfeeder, a small price to pay for observing nature.
It wasn’t until mid-summer that my multi-dimensional bird watching developed. While on Cape Cod for a family vacation, I bought a tubular birdfeeder to replace the gazebo, along with a suet holder and a birdbath with a battery-operated agitator to keep the water rippling slightly to ward off mosquito eggs. A week later my niece gave me a hummingbird feeder. I didn’t believe hummingbirds were in our area but within two hours of hanging the glass globe filled with sugar water, the first hummingbird appeared, floating in air next to one of the feeder’s three red plastic flowers (hummingbirds are attracted by red).
Don’t worry, I’m not going to wax euphoric about hummingbirds, or any other birds for that matter, other than to say that watching them visit each day is strangely fulfilling. I don’t go looking up bird types in an ornithology book. I just like the responsibility of keeping them fed and watered. Are they my new staff? Do they represent my need for leadership responsibilities?
Until I wrote that line just now I hadn’t thought of it that way. Since I’m no shrink, I’m going to leave it at the conscious level—I just like looking at them. With and without the binoculars I put on the kitchen windowsill.
After spending the winter in South America, the hummingbirds will be back next spring. The rest of the birds and I will be waiting.
This summer I became a multi-dimensional birdman. I’ve had a birdfeeder for years, a large gazebo-type structure sitting atop a pole which every year gradually leaned over so much because of the soft soil underneath that it was impossible to use.
This year I finally decided to hang the gazebo from a tree limb easily viewed from our kitchen windows. The birds loved it. So did I. Sparrows, starlings, finches, robins, cardinals, blue jays—all manner of birdlife came to our yard.
But birds being birds, they too often scared each other off. The gazebo’s openness was just too inviting a perch. In their rush for a seat at the table they spooked those already eating to swiftly depart. And it was too easy to create a mess underneath. Almost as much seed wound up on the ground than inside the gazebo. The birds didn’t mind. They became bottom feeders, though they did have to share the bounty with squirrels and chipmunks. A circle of scratched earth where grass used to grow surfaced underneath the birdfeeder, a small price to pay for observing nature.
It wasn’t until mid-summer that my multi-dimensional bird watching developed. While on Cape Cod for a family vacation, I bought a tubular birdfeeder to replace the gazebo, along with a suet holder and a birdbath with a battery-operated agitator to keep the water rippling slightly to ward off mosquito eggs. A week later my niece gave me a hummingbird feeder. I didn’t believe hummingbirds were in our area but within two hours of hanging the glass globe filled with sugar water, the first hummingbird appeared, floating in air next to one of the feeder’s three red plastic flowers (hummingbirds are attracted by red).
Don’t worry, I’m not going to wax euphoric about hummingbirds, or any other birds for that matter, other than to say that watching them visit each day is strangely fulfilling. I don’t go looking up bird types in an ornithology book. I just like the responsibility of keeping them fed and watered. Are they my new staff? Do they represent my need for leadership responsibilities?
Until I wrote that line just now I hadn’t thought of it that way. Since I’m no shrink, I’m going to leave it at the conscious level—I just like looking at them. With and without the binoculars I put on the kitchen windowsill.
After spending the winter in South America, the hummingbirds will be back next spring. The rest of the birds and I will be waiting.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Rush to Judgment
I was watching Jay Leno last night (yes, my wife and I like Jay Leno, though I will say his new show is not as vibrant as the Tonight Show was). Leno’s featured guest was Rush Limbaugh. Here was an opportunity for all to see and hear Mr. Conservative Motormouth pontificate on what is wrong with the country.
From Limbaugh’s perspective, capitalism is good and the marketplace will take care of any woes. The auto industry bailout? Shouldn’t have happened, he believes. It was just a handout to the unions. He compared saving the car industry to an effort to saving the buggy whip industry at the turn of the last century.
Government programs don’t help people because nothing the government provides runs well and stays within its budget, he said. He dismissed Leno’s suggestion that social security and Medicare protect citizens not be able to cope without them.
“The market speaks. The market will fix itself for people far better than a bunch of people in Washington without experience tinkering in it, trying to control it,” he said, adding, “You think it’s compassionate to save all kinds of jobs. The market has more compassion than Washington.”
What was most disturbing during the interview was not hearing Motormouth Limbaugh (I call him Motormouth because I find that he does what most conservative media types do—they talk rapidly as if the flow of their thoughts is sufficient to win arguments, that reason can be trumped by volume, both in words and decibel level). What was most disturbing was hearing a sizable portion of Leno’s audience applauding Limbaugh’s diatribes.
What further disturbs me is that we appear to be living in an age of demagoguery. Anyone with a microphone, or an Internet platform, can stir up passions. Time magazine’s current issue put Glenn Beck’s picture on the front cover with the caption “Mad Man.” The magazine The Week had a similar cover story titled “Mad as hell.” Its cover artwork displayed protest posters including one stating, “Stop taxing us to death.”
I can understand, though not always agree, when there is a dispute over religion and government, or gun control, or the proper way to deal with terrorism.
But I find it hard to reconcile with reality Limbaugh’s audience approvals and the popularity of conservative shock-jocks. They and their audiences seem to forget that government provides essential services. Are they willing to forgo appropriate levels of police and fire protection, waste management, road and highway construction and repair? These same “free marketers” seemingly are unwilling to accept higher taxes to pay for the higher cost of providing services. Do they believe public servants do not deserve wages commensurate with their contributions to society? I wonder how many of them will send back their social security checks, how many of them will refuse to accept Medicare for themselves or their elderly parents? How many of them won’t accept unemployment compensation if the “free market” company that employed them closes the location they work in and shifts their jobs to a Third World country? How many farmers do not apply for subsidy monies? How many of Limbaugh’s followers would accept a tainted food supply chain, unregulated medications that do more harm than good, manipulations of the stock market that benefit the few at the expense of the many?
I, too, want our governments to be more efficient. Let’s hold our elected officials accountable. But even the most well-run private corporation has waste. It can and does make mistakes. To expect government to run better than for-profit corporations is a pipe dream.
And let’s be serious about the value many of our public servants provide. Why would anyone deny our policemen and firemen solidly middle class wages? How many among us are willing to put our lives at risk every day? The same holds true for our military. The freedoms we cherish are protected by our troops. We should not be paying them the equivalent of slave labor wages. The future of our country depends on education. Why would we begrudge teachers salaries worthy of their contributions to society? If teaching paid more, perhaps we’d attract better teachers. Yes, hold them to standards. But pay them according to the impact they have on our future. Anyone out there want to be a garbage man? Doubtful. But sanitation workers perform a vital service. For many years I was an editor and publisher of a business magazine. I was well paid, thank you. But had I not performed my duties, had the magazine not been published, commerce would still have transpired. Nothing bad would have happened. But consider for a moment what would happen if we didn’t have a police force, or a fire department, or a system that picked up your garbage every couple of days.
Leno tried to reason with Limbaugh. He suggested people were fed up with government inefficiency and waste, that programs were good and just needed to be fixed. Limbaugh disagreed and gave his ultimate argument for being against a national health care system. He fears a complete government takeover of our lives would ensue because Washington would be able to dictate what we eat, drink, drive and more, all in the name of making everyone healthier.
It’s a conspiracy theory worthy of Orwell.
From Limbaugh’s perspective, capitalism is good and the marketplace will take care of any woes. The auto industry bailout? Shouldn’t have happened, he believes. It was just a handout to the unions. He compared saving the car industry to an effort to saving the buggy whip industry at the turn of the last century.
Government programs don’t help people because nothing the government provides runs well and stays within its budget, he said. He dismissed Leno’s suggestion that social security and Medicare protect citizens not be able to cope without them.
“The market speaks. The market will fix itself for people far better than a bunch of people in Washington without experience tinkering in it, trying to control it,” he said, adding, “You think it’s compassionate to save all kinds of jobs. The market has more compassion than Washington.”
What was most disturbing during the interview was not hearing Motormouth Limbaugh (I call him Motormouth because I find that he does what most conservative media types do—they talk rapidly as if the flow of their thoughts is sufficient to win arguments, that reason can be trumped by volume, both in words and decibel level). What was most disturbing was hearing a sizable portion of Leno’s audience applauding Limbaugh’s diatribes.
What further disturbs me is that we appear to be living in an age of demagoguery. Anyone with a microphone, or an Internet platform, can stir up passions. Time magazine’s current issue put Glenn Beck’s picture on the front cover with the caption “Mad Man.” The magazine The Week had a similar cover story titled “Mad as hell.” Its cover artwork displayed protest posters including one stating, “Stop taxing us to death.”
I can understand, though not always agree, when there is a dispute over religion and government, or gun control, or the proper way to deal with terrorism.
But I find it hard to reconcile with reality Limbaugh’s audience approvals and the popularity of conservative shock-jocks. They and their audiences seem to forget that government provides essential services. Are they willing to forgo appropriate levels of police and fire protection, waste management, road and highway construction and repair? These same “free marketers” seemingly are unwilling to accept higher taxes to pay for the higher cost of providing services. Do they believe public servants do not deserve wages commensurate with their contributions to society? I wonder how many of them will send back their social security checks, how many of them will refuse to accept Medicare for themselves or their elderly parents? How many of them won’t accept unemployment compensation if the “free market” company that employed them closes the location they work in and shifts their jobs to a Third World country? How many farmers do not apply for subsidy monies? How many of Limbaugh’s followers would accept a tainted food supply chain, unregulated medications that do more harm than good, manipulations of the stock market that benefit the few at the expense of the many?
I, too, want our governments to be more efficient. Let’s hold our elected officials accountable. But even the most well-run private corporation has waste. It can and does make mistakes. To expect government to run better than for-profit corporations is a pipe dream.
And let’s be serious about the value many of our public servants provide. Why would anyone deny our policemen and firemen solidly middle class wages? How many among us are willing to put our lives at risk every day? The same holds true for our military. The freedoms we cherish are protected by our troops. We should not be paying them the equivalent of slave labor wages. The future of our country depends on education. Why would we begrudge teachers salaries worthy of their contributions to society? If teaching paid more, perhaps we’d attract better teachers. Yes, hold them to standards. But pay them according to the impact they have on our future. Anyone out there want to be a garbage man? Doubtful. But sanitation workers perform a vital service. For many years I was an editor and publisher of a business magazine. I was well paid, thank you. But had I not performed my duties, had the magazine not been published, commerce would still have transpired. Nothing bad would have happened. But consider for a moment what would happen if we didn’t have a police force, or a fire department, or a system that picked up your garbage every couple of days.
Leno tried to reason with Limbaugh. He suggested people were fed up with government inefficiency and waste, that programs were good and just needed to be fixed. Limbaugh disagreed and gave his ultimate argument for being against a national health care system. He fears a complete government takeover of our lives would ensue because Washington would be able to dictate what we eat, drink, drive and more, all in the name of making everyone healthier.
It’s a conspiracy theory worthy of Orwell.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Déjà vu, Afghanistan
During my lifetime I never thought the U.S. would replay the Vietnam War.
It was reported in the last two days that the top military commander in Afghanistan has warned that without more troops our involvement there "will likely result in failure."
With each military escalation and request for more troops to fight in Afghanistan, with each revelation that the regime we are propping up is corrupt, with each ruthless act of terrorism against their own people perpetrated by a seemingly vigilante group of extremists clad in turbans and loose-fitting clothes instead of black pajamas, with each description of a terrain of combat not receptive to the type of war our military can easily fight and win, where our air power is potent yet ultimately impotent and occasionally even heartbreakingly catastrophic to innocent civilians, with each passing day that a Democratic president fears he will be accused of losing a war he didn’t start and so feels compelled to send in more soldiers, I fear, I fear for the soul of our nation and for the lives of our youth.
Though we have no compulsory military draft as we did back during my teenage years of the 1960s, and thus no impetus for massive anti-war demonstrations, we are encumbering another generation in a war we cannot win. We’re supporting Afghani political leaders who don’t deserve our dollars, much less the blood of our soldiers.
Yes, 9/11 should be avenged. The time to do that properly was in 2001-2002-2003. No longer is it possible to secure the vengeance and justice we seek. All we have left is a campaign promise to find Osama Bin Laden.
As difficult as it is to admit, let's confront the fact that our nation has more pressing needs at home. We need to save millions of lives by investing in better medical care. We need to improve millions of lives by investing in better education. We need more and better trained policemen. Firemen. Teachers. Social workers. We need to spend more money on our citizens, not on Afghanis who don't want our way of life.
We can still fight Al Qaeda. With drones and cruise missiles we can surgically strike if Osama shows his face. We can "buy" intelligence to guide our missiles. But let's not get deluded into believing that an escalation of 20,000 or 40,000 more troops into a surge will turn the corner in Afghanistan.
The tunnel of troop buildup is long, winding and dark, all too painfully reminiscent of 45 years ago.
It was reported in the last two days that the top military commander in Afghanistan has warned that without more troops our involvement there "will likely result in failure."
With each military escalation and request for more troops to fight in Afghanistan, with each revelation that the regime we are propping up is corrupt, with each ruthless act of terrorism against their own people perpetrated by a seemingly vigilante group of extremists clad in turbans and loose-fitting clothes instead of black pajamas, with each description of a terrain of combat not receptive to the type of war our military can easily fight and win, where our air power is potent yet ultimately impotent and occasionally even heartbreakingly catastrophic to innocent civilians, with each passing day that a Democratic president fears he will be accused of losing a war he didn’t start and so feels compelled to send in more soldiers, I fear, I fear for the soul of our nation and for the lives of our youth.
Though we have no compulsory military draft as we did back during my teenage years of the 1960s, and thus no impetus for massive anti-war demonstrations, we are encumbering another generation in a war we cannot win. We’re supporting Afghani political leaders who don’t deserve our dollars, much less the blood of our soldiers.
Yes, 9/11 should be avenged. The time to do that properly was in 2001-2002-2003. No longer is it possible to secure the vengeance and justice we seek. All we have left is a campaign promise to find Osama Bin Laden.
As difficult as it is to admit, let's confront the fact that our nation has more pressing needs at home. We need to save millions of lives by investing in better medical care. We need to improve millions of lives by investing in better education. We need more and better trained policemen. Firemen. Teachers. Social workers. We need to spend more money on our citizens, not on Afghanis who don't want our way of life.
We can still fight Al Qaeda. With drones and cruise missiles we can surgically strike if Osama shows his face. We can "buy" intelligence to guide our missiles. But let's not get deluded into believing that an escalation of 20,000 or 40,000 more troops into a surge will turn the corner in Afghanistan.
The tunnel of troop buildup is long, winding and dark, all too painfully reminiscent of 45 years ago.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Shins of the President
Now a word about proper sock length.
Watching a clip Sunday of Barack Obama on "This Week With George Stephanopoulos," I was struck by the fashion no-no displayed by the president. Sitting with his legs crossed, Obama showed viewers several inches of bare skin where his pants leg did not meet the top of his socks.
It is inexcusable, it’s a fashion faux pas, especially considering his wife’s keen fashion sense, that the commander-in-chief of the United States does not wear knee-high socks when he is dressed up.
Indeed, anyone, anyone who is in politics, in business or in any way in a public situation, should wear knee-high socks. There is nothing appealing or sexy about seeing a man’s shin-bone skin.
Bottom line—if you’re going to wear socks, make sure they cover all of your lower leg.
Here's hoping someone in the White House reads this before Obama's appearance on Letterman tonight.
Watching a clip Sunday of Barack Obama on "This Week With George Stephanopoulos," I was struck by the fashion no-no displayed by the president. Sitting with his legs crossed, Obama showed viewers several inches of bare skin where his pants leg did not meet the top of his socks.
It is inexcusable, it’s a fashion faux pas, especially considering his wife’s keen fashion sense, that the commander-in-chief of the United States does not wear knee-high socks when he is dressed up.
Indeed, anyone, anyone who is in politics, in business or in any way in a public situation, should wear knee-high socks. There is nothing appealing or sexy about seeing a man’s shin-bone skin.
Bottom line—if you’re going to wear socks, make sure they cover all of your lower leg.
Here's hoping someone in the White House reads this before Obama's appearance on Letterman tonight.
Friday, September 18, 2009
A Baseball Present
My son, Dan, shared with me the video clip of the 3-year-old girl who tossed away the baseball her dad caught at a recent Phillies game (hopefully, this link will let you see it as well... http://sports.yahoo.com/mlb/blog/big_league_stew/post/ModernTube-Young-Phillies-fan-rejects-dad-s-fou?urn=mlb,189941.
Dan’s approaching his 31st birthday. The first game I took him to he was just under 3. He and his friend Tasha were mesmerized by Yankee Stadium. Courtesy of my employer’s box seats some 12 rows behind the Yankees dugout, their view was among the best in the house. Throughout the game Dan and Tasha sat perched at the edge of their seats, their upper bodies supported by arms stretched out to the railing in front of them where their chins rested. There is nothing better than taking a child to a baseball game, assuming that child is interested in baseball. Fortunately, Dan and Tasha were.
Sitting in those seats for one game a year for the next decade and a half, we never got close to a foul ball. The angle was not right. It didn’t really bother us. The seats were that good, and we greatly appreciated the beneficence of the seats’ owner, Roger Friedman.
Dan’s twenty-first birthday coincided with the date for the seventh game of the world series in 1999. Roger was gracious enough to provide me tickets to the ultimate game as a present to Dan. When he opened the birthday card sent in advance and the tickets dropped out, he was overwhelmed. It was, he told me, the best present anyone could give him. Thank you, again, Roger.
It didn’t really matter that 1999 was the year the Yankees swept the San Diego Padres in four games.
Dan’s approaching his 31st birthday. The first game I took him to he was just under 3. He and his friend Tasha were mesmerized by Yankee Stadium. Courtesy of my employer’s box seats some 12 rows behind the Yankees dugout, their view was among the best in the house. Throughout the game Dan and Tasha sat perched at the edge of their seats, their upper bodies supported by arms stretched out to the railing in front of them where their chins rested. There is nothing better than taking a child to a baseball game, assuming that child is interested in baseball. Fortunately, Dan and Tasha were.
Sitting in those seats for one game a year for the next decade and a half, we never got close to a foul ball. The angle was not right. It didn’t really bother us. The seats were that good, and we greatly appreciated the beneficence of the seats’ owner, Roger Friedman.
Dan’s twenty-first birthday coincided with the date for the seventh game of the world series in 1999. Roger was gracious enough to provide me tickets to the ultimate game as a present to Dan. When he opened the birthday card sent in advance and the tickets dropped out, he was overwhelmed. It was, he told me, the best present anyone could give him. Thank you, again, Roger.
It didn’t really matter that 1999 was the year the Yankees swept the San Diego Padres in four games.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
