For the first two companies I led marketing for, I also served as the designer. Not a great designer — more like an “I’m too frugal to hire someone, so I’ll do it myself” kind of designer.
I got by. But compared to Real Life Designers, I was blowing a kazoo at the symphony. Like many generalists, I fell into the trap of thinking that achieving ‘good enough’ was worth a significant chunk of my time.
You probably figured this out way before I did, but here goes: There’s immense value in leaning into what you’re actually good at. Sure, I can produce decent design work. But it’s like crawling through glittery, colorful mud. Takes forever for me, while others can tap-dance right through it.
When Anthony joined our team, I knew he’d elevate our work and free up my time. Delegation 101. But I clung to old habits. Nitpicking, fiddling with designs, mocking up more than necessary before handing it over. Until the day Anthony friggin’ unloaded on me.
Here’s the thing about Anthony: I don’t think he’s ever hurt anyone’s feelings, even when he probably should have. So, his version of unloading was to calmly say, “Nobody’s doing it like that.” Not as in, “Wow, Robert, this is breathtakingly original and effective.” No. More like, “Nobody’s doing it like that because it’s not good. That juice isn’t worth the squeeze.”
What a pleasant, severely Midwestern way to say something sucks.
If I had to name my design philosophy, it would be “mansplainy.” Every pixel must contribute to explaining something. I devour white space. Where eyes go to rest, I say, “No. This is no place to relax. This is where I further hammer you with content.”
Anthony, with quiet grace, will stop me mid-swing and say, “Nobody’s doing it like that.”
He said it years ago, when we started working together. He said it again this week. It lands every time. It’s a gentle reminder that I’m pouring too much time into mediocrity instead of asking for help.
Despite my early allergy to his simpler, more coherent (a.k.a. better) design style, I finally saw the light.
Much of it in the white space.
Thanks, Tone.
(He really likes being called Tone, trust me.)