01242 808668
Pink Sky have been branding GoBee, a fantastic personal transporter. We have created a unique brand for the product and are working on the website as we type! We look forward to the launch of this product in a few weeks! We will post the full story as it launches.
MicroEnsure is an insurance intermediary dedicated to serving the poor throughout the developing world with an affordable and appropriate range of insurance products. They are a really fascinating company and we are thrilled to be working alongside them to produce a range of marketing materials to promote their services.
Sockface has just reported from the sleepy Welsh village of Penycae, home of Marblecake.
He loved exploring the countryside.
We are back in business! 01242 808668 reigns supreme.
We are currently experiencing some difficulties with our phone lines… Whilst this is being fixed, we have a second line: 01242 227000. Please call us on this number.
Well well well. The SSMTD strikes again! Last night’s culprit was a dark green mini. Same space, double yellows clearly marked, no ticket. Does anyone know what is going on yet?!
Here at Pink Sky, we often like to offer little pearls of… Well, not ‘wisdom’ as such (we should not profess to be be in great possession of that), but, perhaps, ‘experience’. Experience, whether good or bad, teaches us many things. As a child, experience teaches you that no matter how much you pulverise your sprouts with the back of your fork and try to make them somehow blend in with your plate, your Mum will always know that you have not eaten them and thus there will be no pudding. Experience teaches us, as an awkward teenager, that whilst you are watching a film with your parents and the inevitable happens (two people angle towards a bed), it is the perfect time to have a sudden bout of dehydration and have to get a drink, remember something of vital importance that you had to say to the cat, or empty your bladder.
As adults, experience doesn’t get any easier. Things are still sent to try us and make us feel terribly uncomfortable. For me, one of these moments occurs when you sit down in a meeting with somebody. It is that brief synapse that occurs between ‘arrival’ and ’start of meeting’. It is the moment when you inexplicably querey ridiculous notions such as “how was the traffic?” and then realise that they have been sitting at their desk since nine o’clock and walked twelve feet to a table to meet you. It is in fact you, who has travelled by car and who knows full well that there was no traffic at all, but that somewhere in your sub-conscience this has been prepared as an excuse, should you have been late.
What do you say in those brief moments of greeting once the hello and handshake have been exchanged and before the meeting starts? What is appropriate to ask? Experience tells me, that you should generally avoid questions or statements of a personal nature. Avoid relationships, medical conditions, politics and religion. For example, when somebody informs you that they have a very slight headache, it is probably not an appropriate time to go into the minutiae of your bunyons by way of nervous response.
Safe British subjects:
The next dilemma is how you can possibly veer away from the unusual quantity of hailstones that you have experienced of late and progress on to the beautiful piece of branding that you intend to create for them. There is no easy way to do this. The usual adjoining phrases consist of something like “SO…..”, “Anyway *insert name*……”, or an awkward silence where you are overwhelmed by the imminent urge to giggle. Usually this can be resolved by taking an unnecessary apparent interest in an unusually ugly painting of a horse, which will always be positioned to your right, above your head, incidentally, if you find yourself in this quandary.
It doesn’t matter how you break the silence, it will always sound rude. Without fail. Just grit your teeth and get through it. It will not last long. The minute you hear the absolvent “yesyesyes” (a new word I believe), or “Yahyahyah” (if they have ideas above their station) from the client, you know you are safe. Congratulations. You have passed this hurdle.
Naomi’s desk:
It is for research.
“Honestly it is!” she says, applying pink lip balm.
Today Mark is at a meeting in London, at the City of London Club. It all looks rather posh to me, so I have been instructing him in the finer delicacies of canapé etiquette… For those of you who are intrigued, here are my general rules of thumb when encountering the canapés of doom:
1. Remember: Canapés are part of the test. How you handle your morsel of something-or-other is vital. THE CLIENT IS WATCHING.
2. Never, EVER accept a canapé that contains green paste. It is not safe. Quite possibly poisonous. I have, before now, had to surreptitiously perform a swift MI5 style “re-arrange the dusty curtains of an ancient stately home and with a swift flick of the wrist deposit half-chewed canapé behind said fabric mass” manoevure. Remember, THE CLIENT IS TESTING YOU.
3. Canapés are always delicately constructed in such a fashion that, if but one grain of rice happens to be out of place, or if a cunningly positioned ‘dill’ embellishment has slipped, disaster will strike. You will lift the canapé from the silver platter (thumb and forefinger is standard practice) and it will convince you, against all the odds, that it is fine. However, you will curse the day you ever decided to bite into it. As mushroom paste, smoked salmon and yellow liquid start to dribble down your wrist and the ‘rice explosion’ goes straight down your sleeve, you begin to perform the ‘tongue jive and body spin’. This is the flustered momentary panic experienced when you try to direct flailing rice into your mouth whilst trying to catch Soy sauce with your tongue to stop it dribbling down your chin. Whilst trying to be discreet about this hideous experience, you do a 180 degree swivel, only to find that the bewildered client is now, in fact, standing behind you. As soon as you have settled into the meeting and assume that everyone has forgotten about this monumental failure, you take off your jacket only to discover that you have ‘elbow paste’, which is the uncomfortable condition that occurs when rice has gone up your sleeve and you have leant on the table for an hour and a half.
4. Never, under any circumstances, trust a canapé that claims to be a ‘parcel’. Much like a letter bomb, or a tax bill, you will probably regret its contents, because they are fashioned from the same kitchens as utilities bills where the accepted stance is that “anything goes”. In the instance of peas, carpet fluff and quinoa, this is probably not true.
5. A fairly safe canapé to try, is a cracker with brie and slices of grape.
6. It is best not to go for skewered canapés. You will surely experience the awkward “one more bite and the carpet gets it” syndrome, whereby despite the carefully positioned ‘hand under chin’ mechanism being in place, the matter pretending to be meat (usually spicy pork or similar – apparently) leaps from the stick and lands just in front of the rather hefty gentleman with large feet a moment too late. You wince as he lands in it and proceeds, unaware, to leave a spicy pork trail across the reception room that vaguely resembles a mouse massacre. You are also left with the unending dilemma of what to do with the stick afterwards and if there is not a conveniently positioned sideboard nearby, you will find yourself twiddling it between your fingers an hour later in the meeting, whilst the client gives you peculiar stares.
7. Vol-au-vents. If they have a lid, don’t touch. There is always a reason for concealing contents. If they don’t have a lid, you are probably in for a chicken mayo with herbs, prawn mayo with paprika or a tuna surprise. Just watch out for the puff pastry multiplication factor. Under no circumstances may you breathe out through your nose when consuming these. To sneeze, would be a cardinal sin. Puff pastry, when puffed upon, disintegrates, usually into a million small pieces and believe me, they travel. You will discover that there is what looks like a small bird table on the left shoulder of your client, after you have laughed enthusiastically at their joke mid-vol-au-vent. At this point, the only advice I can give is to find an excuse to clap them enthusiastically upon the shoulder and remove your hand with a swift brushing action. To avoid an awkward glance, make a comment such as “Oh my, what a lovely suit” at which point they will hopefully look down at their lapels and agree wholeheartedly. Phew!
8. ‘Rolls’. Anything with this in its title is probably a regretful error. What you will actually find yourself eating is something with a sponge consistency that is supposed to taste like spinach. Yuck!
9. The real classic. Another client test. It is impossible to synchronise your canapé consumption with theirs. They will watch you with a beady eye. As soon as you lift the canapé to your mouth, they will fire a very quick question at you. You will then do a strange ‘washing in the washing machine’ hand gesture in front of your mouth to represent that you need to chew. They already know this. They did it on purpose. However, in your ruffled state, you will attempt an “Umph… Mwumph…. mmm mmm, mmm mmm” to try to fill the awkward silence. The silence has now become more awkward because the client gives you a withering look. You clean the strings of artichoke that have mysteriously wedged themselves between your front teeth with your tongue and then start to speak, trying not to smile, in case the sesame poppy seed is still in residence on your gum.
10. The ‘creamy substance up the nose’ ploy. Beware. Do not pick up a canapé that is too tall. when you bite into it, the creamy/mayonnaise-y/cheesy something-or-other will end up in your nostrils. Not cool.