Musings of a Voice Over Artist

HOW IS YOUR MEAL?!?!?!?!?

2011-10-23T13:12:00.000-07:00

Well, here we are six weeks into parenthood and it's really going rather well. Oh sure, we're up every three hours without fail, I've lost over half a stone thanks to simply not eating properly, and we've a new found hatred for any parent who tells us that their darling child is 'already sleeping through the night'. Oh how blessed and lucky they are - the bastards.

Well as luck would have it, 'er indoors and I decided to take ourselves out for a nice, and what we hoped would be, romantic meal. We'd got ourselves one of those lovely vouchers and decided that would leave our three year old son Felix at home with the keys to the toolshed and liqueur cabinet, and simply take Tami with us in the pram. She sleeps soundly in public places and clearly has not yet developed a sense of shame. I wonder at what age we get that? I'm still waiting for mine.

Well the first thing we did was to make sure that the restaurant had baby changing facilities. Trust me, no amount of fine dining can make up for having to lay a changing mat on the floor of a public toilet and pray that there are no nasty surprises.

As luck would have it, they said that they did, so we were all set. Now the restaurant is in Chelsea, and whilst that it is only 16 miles away and should therefore take around 40 minutes according to my ridiculously optimistic sat nav system, the drive took close to an hour and a half. That, however, was not the problem...

The problem was that, as we entered, we were greeted with the sounds of lots of people talking. In and of itself that really doesn't seem so bad. What I failed to mention is that these people were attempting to have a conversation over music being played so loud, it was a wonder that they were not pouring into the streets with blood spouting from their eardrums.

Now don't get me wrong - I'm not some 40 year old prude who doesn't appreciate a bangin' tune, but this place was louder than the runway of a major international airport. Oh sure, Tami stayed asleep for the 4 minutes that we were in there, but at what cost to her health?

Naturally, we left, but it did get me to thinking - why would anyone create a restaurant where people could not talk over dinner? Surely any dining experience is about more than just the food. If I have to destroy my vocal chords just to speak with someone sat 3 feet away from me then I just can't see the value in that.

Clubs are loud, pubs are sometimes loud too, but does all of our modern technology mean that the only way I can ask my wife if she's enjoying her meal is to send her a text message? It seems that in every decade, something new is blamed for killing the art of conversation. I never thought a meal out would be one of them.

Welcome to the world

2011-09-23T01:36:00.001-07:00

Well usually I like to use this platform as a means to share my views on all things stupid with anyone who can be bothered to read them. It's a fun and cathartic process for me. My wife asks me where I come up with my ideas and I point out that it really doesn't take very long for someone to annoy me, and then I get to vent on line.

However this week, I am all mushy and nice - a lot like peas, if you will. The reason should be fairly obvious from the picture above. My wife and I are celebrating the birth of our daughter, Tami Erin Rose.

One month after successfully getting our son out of nappies, and the cycle begins once again. The 4am wake up calls, the ridiculous price of formula, wondering how long it will be before she can crawl over to the DVD player and destroy it. For all these reasons and more, I am actually very happy.

And so I would love to report that in my euphoric state that nothing has annoyed me and that everyone the world is actually marvellous. I would love to, but I can't. However I will save my rant for the next blog, just to keep it fresh. I will give you a spoiler alert though - I win this one, and the big company that annoyed me have their tail between their legs, so HAH!

Until next time.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Game of Buying and Selling

2011-08-16T15:39:00.000-07:00

Hello my blog loving friends (both of you). As I pour out my soul in a desperate attempt to amuse, inspire and above all, improve Google page rankings, I find myself thinking about the way people shop.

‘Why Paul?’ I hear you cry. OK, to be fair I didn’t actually hear anything just then but how cool would that have been if you’d actually responded vocally? Pretty cool. No really, it would.

I actually think about the way people shop all of the time. A 25 year long career in selling stuff will tend to do that for you. I’d love to say that I’m a student of the human condition, but that’s just a pretentious way of saying that I think about people, and surely we all do that from time to time.

Most recently I had taken a large amount of my ‘no longer required items’ or to use a professional term – junk – to a car boot sale. My wife Shelly despairs at the 5am start, the hallway covered in boxes and the fact that I may well come home with barely enough money to take the whole family out for a Happy Meal, but none the less away I go.

Now what has made this particular sale interesting is one of the items that I have on my table. It’s a little USB device with a small hot plate that you use to keep your tea or coffee warm. It’s quirky and fun but because I now drink espresso, it’s kind of useless for me.

And so it sits on the table and loads of people pick it up and ask me how much I want for it. I tell them they can make me an offer, at which point they then ask me what the item actually is.

Let’s go over that again – just to make things clear. They want to know how much it is BEFORE they know what it is. To make matters more interesting, there are those who will ask for a price, attempt to negotiate and THEN ask what it is.

This is the car boot mentality; people are more interested in the game of negotiation than they are in actually acquiring the items. I guess that’s OK, but some people are just plain unreasonable. They pick up something which, when it was new cost £20. Second hand you’re happy to take a pound for it and then they STILL ask if you’ll do it for 50p.

Trouble is, if you tell them it’s £2 to start with, they won’t knock you down to what you wanted in the first place – they’ll just put it down and walk away. Once again, the discount is more valuable than the item.

It’s no different in any other marketplace – it’s the buyer that determines the price. Oh sure, the seller may set a price, but if nobody buys it, the price will start to come down until they do. The buyer is in control, but does this mean that, as a service provider, I should drop my prices every time someone tells me that they think I am too expensive? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

If I record a radio commercial for a client and they pay my regular rate, and then another client comes along and wants, lets say, a voice over for a corporate video, then my regular rates will still apply. A reasonable company will accept my rates and we’ll get on with the job. Why? Well I’d like to think they hired me because of the quality of my work, and not the figure on the invoice.

Now if client number three comes along, also wants a voice for a radio commercial and instantly tells me that I am too expensive, well that’s unfortunate, but what does it say about the value I place on myself if I start offering discounts just because people say so? Other respected companies were happy with my rates, so I know that there’s nothing wrong with them.

I don’t want you to think I’m inflexible, but you don’t get the bill at a Michelin Star restaurant and then tell the waiter that you could have picked up a burger down the road for £2.99 do you?

There are voice over artists who are just starting out – happy to take whatever work they can in order to build a portfolio. There are those who are veterans of the industry, represented by the best agents and demanding top dollar for their services.

And then there’s me. If the former is a cheeseburger and the latter Filet Mignon, then I’d like to think of myself as a good Sirloin – reliable, satisfying, and great with a good peppercorn sauce. OK, that last one was a bit weird, but good lists come in threes.

So please audition me first and talk rates second, because if you don’t feel I’ve got the voice you’re looking for, even doing it for free would not make any difference.

Blimey I fancy a steak now…probably should not have written this just before bed. Goodnight.

What is happening to my language?

2011-08-10T15:33:00.001-07:00

Well yes, it has been a while hasn't it my friends? Of course I say that, but then if you're just reading this blog for the first time then it's only been about 12 seconds. In which case welcome, thanks for stopping by, and please feel free to leave a nice warm and fluffy comment before you go - and watch out for the wet paint - thanks.

As I write this, the streets of Britain are teeming with civil unrest. People in London are angry at the police, people in the Midlands are angry at each other, and people in the North are just plain 'Mad fer it'. I myself started a fire yesterday, but only because it was quite a nice evening and I fancied a bit of a barbecue. Thanks for asking - the sausages turned out lovely.

But I get angry too you know, and allow my rage a more peaceful outlet by way of this blog. One of my biggest hates is the apparent death of our language, left in the mouths of these hooded morons who speak with an accent that belongs nowhere on this planet, and with a lacklustre approach to decent grammar and diction that makes me feel like an English teacher from some time around the 1850s.

In no particular order, let me first point out that the G in words that end in 'ing' is NOT, nor has it ever been, silent. For some reason however, there seems to be an entire generation of people who think that it is. You know who I'm talking about. You call up a company with a solid reputation and some hooped earring Chavette who is more interested in the X Factor than her job shrieks down the phone at you with a voice so shrill that all the dogs in the neighbourhood start howling.

"Good mornin'" they cry. You respond in a professional tone "Good morninG, may I please speak with so and so? "E's in a meetin' right now, who's callin'"

AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!! Die Die Die you horrible little person! You're killing the English language. You're the icon of everything I hate about the world.

Have you been there? I bet you have. Now I don't mind so much when I'm phoning to order a pizza from Domino's but these are people answering the phones in City firms - the sorts of places where a certain standard is expected and yet is clearly being overlooked.

Then there's my other favourite - the expression "Is it", used almost completely without any sense at all. I was delayed in a restaurant recently. I won't name names but suffice is to say that thanking the lord that it was Friday was not going to make any real difference.

He asked me if I was going anywhere after the meal. I told him that I was supposed to be somewhere 20 minutes ago but their errors were holding me up, to which he responds "Is it?"

IS WHAT MORON? You've actually asked me nothing at all, but in that slow drawn out way that is supposed to relay empathy but actually just makes me want to reach for the nearest bottle of ketchup and throw it at your head!

And last but by no means least, the use of OMG. Seriously, how much of a rush do you need to be in to abbreviate words with one syllable. More importantly, if the person you're speaking with doesn't know what OMG means (there are some who still don't - don't be angry with them, they're just better than you) and so you're going to have to explain it, thus making your abbreviation UTTERLY REDUNDANT.

Language evolves, I get that. I mean why do you think Shakespeare is so bloody difficult? But it seems to be happening at an incredible rate. These days, describing something as 'sick' is a compliment. Well when did that happen? Did I miss a meeting?

As a voice artist, I'm happy to speak in character and mash up this beautiful language with all the enthusiasm as a nerd at a Star Trek convention, but every once in a while, it is just so lovely to speak The Queen's English.

Laters.

I weep for the future

2011-08-10T15:33:00.000-07:00

Then there's my other favourite - the expression "Is it", used almost completely without any sense at all. I was delayed in a restaurant recently. I won't name names but suffice is to say that thanking the lord that it was Friday was not going to make any real difference.

He asked me if I was going anywhere after the meal. I told him that I was supposed to be somewhere 20 minutes ago but their errors were holding me up, to which he responds "Is it?"

IS WHAT MORON? You've actually asked me nothing at all, but in that slow drawn out way that is supposed to relay empathy but actually just makes me want to reach for the nearest bottle of ketchup and throw it at your head!

And last but by no means least, the use of OMG. Seriously, how much of a rush do you need to be in to abbreviate words with one syllable. More importantly, if the person you're speaking with doesn't know what OMG means (there are some who still don't - don't be angry with them, they're just better than you) and so you're going to have to explain it, thus making your abbreviation UTTERLY REDUNDANT.

Language evolves, I get that. I mean why do you think Shakespeare is so bloody difficult? But it seems to be happening at an incredible rate. These days, describing something as 'sick' is a compliment. Well when did that happen? Did I miss a meeting?

As a voice artist, I'm happy to speak in character and mash up this beautiful language with all the enthusiasm as a nerd at a Star Trek convention, but every once in a while, it is just so lovely to speak The Queen's English.

Laters.

There's no such thing as a courtesy call

2011-03-21T18:06:00.001-07:00

You know, the world of voice over is a joy for me. I get to ‘become’ a vast spectrum of people - from the simple narration of a radio commercial about a local garage to the voice of a talking carpet, my days can get pretty interesting.

One thing my skills as a talker has helped me with is a career in sales. To be fair, really good sales people listen much more than they talk, but when the chance to speak does present itself, it’s important that they think just as much about what they say, as how they’re saying it. The problem I find with a lot of telesales people is that they don’t possess this skill - they’re usually reading from a script and are poised for one of the two responses that you can give them - either that you are interested, or some reason that you’re not. Either way, if there’s one thing that aggravates more even more than having my evening kebab interrupted, it’s people that flat out LIE.

Best example? “Good evening Mr Rose, I’m calling from insert faceless call centre here and it’s just a quick courtesy call to...........” Now the dots aren’t there to act as an ‘etc’ or an ‘and so on’, no, they’re there because once I hear the words ‘courtesy call’ then all I hear after that is white noise. Give me an extra couple of seconds and my brain will actually start playing reruns of iconic TV shows from the eighties just to stop me lapsing into a coma. It’s sad really, because on reflection, Knight Rider really was rather weak.

Let’s take a look at why this happens, ideally without the use of an MRI to understand my brain. It happens because I don’t understand how any company with whom I have never done business would want to call me simply out of courtesy. It would make a nice world wouldn’t it? “Good afternoon Mr Rose, just calling to say hello and see how you are, no other agenda whatsoever”. Wake up genius, it’s not going to happen.

Courtesy calls are only real when you’ve recently given someone some business and they’re calling to thank you and ask you how you rated the service. Even then, they’re not so much courtesy calls as they are survey calls, but we let them slide because if we were happy, then we’ve no reason to shut them out and if we weren’t, well we all love a good moan don’t we?

All these other courtesy calls are sales calls, so why not just be honest about it? Don’t call to tell me I’ve won a prize in a competition I didn’t even enter. Don’t tell me that my home has been selected for a free conservatory before you’ve established that I live in a flat on the first floor (I don’t any more, that that actually happened), and don’t tell me that you’ve got ‘people in my area’ when we both know that they’ll be in my area just as soon as I agree to an appointment.

What I just don’t get is why all these telesales people are trained in believing that their target customers are all complete idiots. It’s like they just don’t even want to try any more - a cheery disposition and a slick script is only going to work on the thinnest slice of the population, so why bother using it?

Just level with people - “Good evening Mr Rose, I’m calling on behalf of XYZ and I wanted to take a few moments of your time to see if we can be of any help to you with regard to life insurance”. Crisp, polite and to the point, that person will not get the phone slammed down. They will get told that I already have an insurance broker, but I will not feel as though my time was robbed from me by some liar in a call centre.

If you don’t think that the truth works, then I encourage you to watch the Dudley Moore film ‘Crazy People’. Yes it is a work of fiction, but it’s always touched a nerve with me, and if you know the film, I’m sure by now you will be able to see why.

Have a good and honest day.

I Don't Know the Answer

2010-12-26T06:04:00.000-08:00

Well as the year draws to a close I thought I would throw one last blog on the fire (see what I did there - clever wasn't it? Well, I say clever, essentially it was just a bit of wit, and I don't suspect I'll be nominated for any awards for it. Still, it brought a smile to my face, so that's nice).

I want to talk about something interesting that happened to me in Tesco the other night. To be fair, most things that happen in Tesco are not interesting. Last week I found myself asking what would happen if Tesco asked a random group of 100 people if they found the whole experience of going there to be anything less than hellish. I suspect the results would bother them.

The thing is, I’ve discovered the joy of Lidl shopping, and it really can be a joy. The quality there is superb, the prices are fantastic and what’s more, it can be an adventure comparing European brand foods with the more recognised UK stuff and realising that, more often than not, it tastes exactly the same and in many cases – a lot better.

However, they don’t stock everything and I needed to pick up some chestnut puree so that Shelly could make her chestnut stuffing. It was her mother’s recipe and she really does do it proud, so darling, if you’re reading this – here’s to another great stuffing!

So back to Tesco, where it’s late at night, snowing and altogether unpleasant (OK, about as unpleasant as usual, but if unpleasant had a dial, it would been cranked up to 11). After roaming the aisles of where logic dictated I would find the chestnuts, I was still sporting an empty basket. At that point I decided to ask for help, and I use the word ‘help’ in its broadest sense here.

“Excuse me”, say I, “can you tell me where I might find the chestnut puree and also the whole chestnuts – you usually sell them in vacuum packs?”

“Well you’ll find loose chestnuts in the whole foods section but I haven’t really seen any other chestnuts come in so I expect that we’re not doing them.”

STOP!!!!!! A GIANT LOGIC BOMB HAS JUST BEEN LEFT ON AISLE 16, PLEASE CAN SOMEONE GO AND CLEAR IT UP????

So you’re one of the biggest supermarket chains in the country, and my local has expanded to such a ridiculous size that you can now by light aircraft in Aisle 37, next to the beans, but you’ve not seen chestnuts A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS!!!???!!!

Obviously my real response was a little more reserved but it did get me thinking about something. Why didn’t she just tell me that she didn’t know?

Seriously, the lady is working in a shop that sells literally thousands of products. If she had the mental capacity to remember all of them, along with their location, then one would argue that she is woefully over qualified to be stacking shelves in the middle of the night in Tesco wouldn’t they?

I am perfectly happy for people to not know the answer, just as long as they take a moment to tell me where I might be able to get the help that I need. What would happen if someone asked me if I could do a particular accent and I just shrugged my shoulders and said "probably"? They'd book a session with me, and then waste time and money finding out that I am not the man for the job. The correct response (and the one I use) is to offer to audition, that way I am only cutting in to my own time, which is fine.

We’re told of all of the truly powerful words in sales like YES and THANKS, but I’d like to add another phrase to that list – the phrase I DON’T KNOW. Go the extra mile and find out what help you genuinely can offer. It can be as simple as asking a colleague if they know the answer, and then everybody wins.

I'm looking forward to 2011. The voicemonkey site is up and running and I have clients asking me to voice animations, commercials, documentaries, phone systems and heaps more.

To all my fellow artistes in the funny world that we call voice, I wish you all the best of the festive season and may we all enjoy a most prosperous new year.

Ask me a question

2010-12-09T00:21:00.000-08:00

Last week, I launched my new VoiceMonkey web site. Please do check it out at www.voicemonkey.co.uk

As a brand new concept, I asked a number of friends and associates what they thought of the idea. Now it's not like I was pitching to Dragon's Den here, but the general opinion of everyone I spoke with was that it is a good idea and is bound to be very popular.

For those of you who have not yet checked it out (and what's the matter with you anyway) The VoiceMonkey is an opportunity for people to download personalised celebrity impressions to use on their phone, be it for ringtonesor my personal favourite, voice mail greetings.

You see, when I was a youngster back in the eighties, my parents bought the house an answering machine and it was clearly a vision of the future. Being tape based, it was only a matter of time before comedy messages became available in the shops and these guys did pretty good business with them.

Fast forward some 25 years and it seems that the same product is not yet available for the ubiquitous mobile, which clearly needs to change. Feel free to join the revolution and visit the site. You can also follow it on Twitter and Facebook. See? I really am trying to cover my bases here.

To launch, I took a small promotional stand at a shopping centre in Harlow in Essex for a long weekend of Friday to Sunday. In a word, fail, but not for the reason that the idea isn't any good, because it is, so there.

What was strange was how many people would walk up to or near the stand, ask in a rhetorical, yet out loud manner, "what's Voice Monkey?" and then walk straight off!

I just don't get it. You find yourself curious about something. You vocalise that curiosity and better yet, you are standing opposite someone who can clearly answer your questions but what do you do? You walk away!

I would really like to think that I am not like that. I have a healthy thirst for knowledge and if the opportunity to get my questions answered are there, then I am asking my questions.

So what do you want to know about me? Are you wondering if I can do a particular voice or if I can sing a certain way? Are you wondering if I represent other voice artists? Well stop wondering, pick up the phone and call me. My web site does not feature an FAQ because the beauty of the world of voice over is that the questions are just about as random as anyone could hope for!

Ultimately, don't be afraid to ask. No one in business has ever been bothered about answering questions. I don't want to suggest that there is no such thing as a stupid question because there is. There are tons of them, but isn't it better to just ask it and get it answered than spending your time simply not knowing?

That last one...was rhetorical.

Cultural differences can make people rude

2010-10-28T01:59:00.001-07:00

Now I have no problem with people being direct. In fact, people often form a less than desirable first impression of me because I am so direct. I pride myself in an honest approach that cuts through all of the crap and gets the job done, and so I figured that if I came across people of similar thinking, I would be both happy and comfortable.

And then I came to Israel.

I'm no stranger to this land. I have family here, took part in a one month long tour of the country when I was 16 and even worked as a presenter at an off shore radio station back in the early nineties. So I have always known that the locals can generally come across as quite short with people when actually, it's just a language thing.

It seems that the English language is actually quite polite. We say "please can I have a pint of beer if you'd be so kind bartender?" where other parts of the world will simply say "beer" and get the same result. They're not being rude, it's just the way their language works.

But then we need to factor in some other things. Tel Aviv is a city of some half a million people. Not bad for a country which has only been independent for 60 years. Trouble is that the roads are so full up with cars, busses, mopeds and bikes that driving there is not so much a means to an end, but more a true measure of just how big your balls are. It is bloody terrifying. Woe betide you if you don't move away from the traffic light the nano second it turns green. Indicators? Well they're a nice idea but surely a car darting into your lane is indication enough isn't it? Speed limits? I did see some numbers on the road but clearly they're more of a guideline than a rule.

And you think that's bad? Try walking on the pavement, where it seems that the same blatant disregard for personal space is in full effect. If you can make it down one stretch of road without bumping into someone, getting clipped by a bicycle or generally pissed off at just how many people are in your frickin way then I reckon they whisk you straight into Mossad to put your special skills to good use.

And so the question remains. Do they all appear rude and impatient because of a language barrier, or has a lifetime of having one's personal space invaded actually made them rude and impatient?

I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here, but I am ready to go home and enjoy a nice leisurely walk down the street with nothing but the voices in my head for company.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

You get what you pay for

2010-10-18T14:38:00.001-07:00

Well here I am coming up on the half way mark of my Easyjet flight to Israel and so far, everything is going pretty much as expected.

In other words, not that great.

Not that I am one to complain. Actually, that's not strictly true; I am THE one to complain, but only when my expectations are not being met, and in this case, I made a point of setting my expectations low, and so far I am doing rather well.

Saga number one was being advised by the airline to arrive 3 hours before the flight, as opposed to the regular 2. When we arrived, we were told that the systems were down so we would have to wait an hour and then check in. Brilliant.

Saga number two is that the family travelling with us made a point of checking in online in order to speed up the process. Whilst we waited to check in, they waited to drop their bags off. Their queue was much shorter than ours. We arrived at the front at the same time.

Saga number three was that the flight was delayed by an hour and then as we waited on the Tarmac, yet another hour went by before we finally took off.

The queue it seemed, was made up primarily of whingers. People tutted and moaned and voiced their low opinions of Easyjet and do you know, that was actually the thing that annoyed me the most.

I've flown with this airline on numerous occasions. I do so because it is cheap and because it strikes me that anything under 5 hours in the air really doesn't need meals, movies and all the other frills factored in to the price of my ticket.

The fact is that it is extremely rare that a flight with them goes completely smoothly. To show up at the airport, whisk through security, find my plane waiting, board, relax and fly - all on time, is a luxury I have come to accept as close to impossible.

So why moan? Why bother having a pop at the people who work here? It's rarely their fault. People need to vent, I certainly get that, but come on, you're about to go on holiday. You've got days of sun, sand and sea ahead of you and all you have to do is wait a couple of extra hours. Whack on a smile, suck it up and try and focus on the positive here.

We were hoping that young Felix might like to sleep on the plane. Well no such luck. He is wide awake and in desperate need of entertainment, and the Peppa Pig on his MP4 player is wearing a little thin.

None the less, I am on holiday and feeling good. Of course, if the hotel isn't up to scratch, then I am ready to get medieval on them. Hmmmm.... Pick a fight with an Israeli, I am not sure I fancy my chances.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The best laid plans...

2010-10-10T13:02:00.001-07:00

Well here I sit on my sofa, desperately trying to recover from a half marathon for which I was woefully undertrained. Yes, I did finish it, thanks for asking, and I am actually quite pleased with my time.

As soon as my knees stop feeling like they've burst into flames I can start training properly for the 2011 London Marathon as the sadistic gits who organise it have given me a space. Oh well.

You get a lot of time to think when your mashing your feet into two useless slabs of meat and bone. As soon as you stop thinking about how far you've run or how far you still have to go, you can find yourself taking stock of your life.

You see, I had a dream. I mean, we're not talking Martin Luther King levels here, but none the less I had a dream. When I turned 39 last November I told myself that I would be a full time voice artist by the time I turned 40. It's not that I don't like my job or the people I'm forced to work with, it's just that I have aspirations that transcend the nine to five and, after having tasted a small degree of success, certainly felt that I wanted more.

So I built the website. I did email campaigns. I blogged. I tweeted. I even sometimes just picked up the phone and cold called people. I genuinely felt that I was making all of the right moves but sadly, one year later, and I will still be going into the office tomorrow.

What I have realised is that I have not been realistic about my efforts. Being a voice over is not like being an actor. You have to view yourself as a business, and as a business, just how much work do I expect to get by promoting myself for a couple of hours every month? Exactly.

I know now that it is time for me to get real. To use every spare moment of every single day promoting what I can do and just how well I can do it. The waiting world is not looking for me, I need to go and look for them.

The plan is simple. Go on my holiday, switch off from the pressures of the world for ten days, and then come back and take this business forward at full throttle.

To any agents reading this, I'm totally up for representation, but only if you work like a dog with a rag in its mouth!

I will keep blogging while I'm away in Israel so stay tuned.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Calling in sick just isn't what it was

2010-09-26T08:40:00.000-07:00

You know, when I'm not tirelessly working away in my booth recording the next gripping installment of health and safety videos for power plants, I still work in an office. As much as I would love to declare myself a full time voice over artist, the wife insists that I keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.

So, those of you who also work in offices will surely find a way to relate.

Right now, I have a nasty cold. I'm saying cold because I have not been to the doctor, taking valuable time out of my day to be told that I have a virus, that there is nothing they can do about it and that the best thing for me would be fluid and bed rest. You don't even need to log in to NHS Direct for that kind of genius diagnosis - you can actually do it yourself. All you have to do is wake up feeling a bit rubbish and just assume the rest yourself.

I mean seriously, I don't know if your doctor's office is anything like mine but they always chime in with "Is it something you feel you need to see a doctor for right away?" Well how the hell would I know? I mean it might be nothing at all or it might be very serious - I simply don't have the medical training!

Then they tell you that there's nothing available for 2 weeks, so you ask if you could see them any sooner and, hey presto, an appointment is available tomorrow. It happens every time and the people at the surgery don't think that the more intelligent amongst their patients might have actually figured out the system by now. None the less, we soldier on and in this instance, I've decided not to bother negotiating for an appointment - I'm fairly sure that Lemsip will do the trick.

Now here's the tricky part. Assuming that you didn't get a formal diagnosis and follow the same path as me, you're now left with the daunting prospect of phoning in sick. As close to death as you might sound on the phone, there's always that little voice in your head that tells you, "Sound more ill. They don't believe you. They think you've just had a heavy weekend and that the Tequila hasn't quite made it out of your system yet." Yup - calling in sick on a Monday is ten times worse than any other day of the week.

Fact is that you could video call in from an oxygen tent and you'd still be paranoid that they don't believe you. The problem there is that the 'voice' can sometimes backfire:

"Hello (cough for effect), yeah I fell off a ladder and I've broken my leg"

"Well what's wrong with your voice"

"Technically nothing - I really was just going for sympathy"

GAME OVER - GET YOUR SORRY ARSE TO WORK RIGHT NOW.

Part of me wonders what would happen if I were a full time Voice Over. You see, before I started feeling proper nasty, the first thing to go was my throat. Not enough to stay home from work but not pleasant all the same. Trouble is, my voice isn't working properly, and that means that unless I've been cast in a commercial for a cold and flu remedy, I'm pretty much out of commission until my voice gets better.

It's weird, but being self employed in the world of voice over really would be a dream come true for me, but a simple sniffle has got me quite concerned, because even a few days out of action could seriously jeopardise my next dinner.

Have fun - always.

Keep it Consistent - or I'm Off!

2010-09-14T14:32:00.000-07:00

Aside from the hours that I spend behind the microphone every day, I always top up the payments on my private jet by working in a sales environment. It comes in very handy when putting myself forward for corporate work, as twenty five years in sales has given me a natural tone which people find reassuring. I don’t know about you but I personally hate being screamed at by some children’s presenter in a suit. People just don’t like being sold to, but they do love to buy. Those aren’t my words, they’re the words of one of my favourite sales gurus - Jeffrey Gitomer.

Jeffrey has written loads of books and given talks and seminars around the globe that have helped bad sales people become good, and good sales people become unstoppable. He has an enthusiasm which is truly infectious. if you’re in sales, I highly recommend checking him out.

He also produces a weekly newsletter, as indeed many sales training people do, and that’s what’s inspired this week’s blog.

You see, I subscribe to a number of these newsletters and eZines - seriously, how is that even a word anyway? Week by week I receive what I consider to be good guidance from sales professionals whose experience and knowledge I respect. Sure, there’s a lot of stuff that I’ve heard before and that’s fine, but as long as it’s useful, I’ll read it.

Today, that all went wrong. Now I won’t name the sales person in question because it would not be fair to them (I’m saying them instead of him or her so there are no clues). For the past few weeks I’ve been reading what this person had to say with great interest. They had some great tips and even turned me on to a new type of service which I think could do wonders for my business. I became excited about receiving the next installment, because a simple five minutes out of my day to read something could really bolster my figures right? WRONG.

Today, this person started going on about the Laws of Attraction, and how visualising something can make it real. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a great believer in that sort of thing. I’m all for a positive mental attitude and I am often amazed at how someone who I haven’t thought about for 10 years will pop into my head and then come back into my life within a week. This stuff does happen - I’ve read The Secret. Well, I say read, I’ve got the audio book on my iPod but it’s just not the right thing to listen to on a 5 mile run.

What annoyed me is that this ‘guru’ had taken the basic elements of The Secret, changed a few words without changing the message, and then put it out there as their own wisdom. I don’t have too much of an issue with their blatant copying - we do it all the time. What bugged me is that this person went in a totally different direction with his training, and it was totally without warning too.

If I want a bunch of crystal wearing, naked chanting, tree hugging, vegetarian, soul searching sentiment then there are plenty of places that I can go. If you want to market yourself in that space then that’s fine. Perhaps you can offer a free yoga session to everyone who buys your book - no doubt printed on recycled paper by farmers who are happy to be paid in love rather than actual money. But if you want to teach people how to succeed in business, telling them to smile and be positive is simply not good enough.

They tell me that ‘Whatever I believe, will be reality’. Interesting, I believe you’re about to lose a subscriber.....incredible...this stuff actually works!

Learn to speak properly

2010-09-05T13:27:00.000-07:00

You know, there are a number of things in life that really wind me up. Subscribe to this blog and within a few weeks you'll come to think of me as someone who really shouldn't be entrusted with any sort of firearm. Seriously, I'm a five minute walk from the Big Brother House here - surely no jury in the world would convict?

That said, my biggest gripe is the death of the English language. Now don't get me wrong - I'm not one of these blokes who walks around in a tweed jacket, smoking a pipe and thinking that we should all be reading Shakespeare over a nice cup of tea and a slice of Battenburg, but I do think that the way people speak has taken a bit a downhill slide.

People have just become so lazy haven't they? In my role as a sales person, I've spent a good number of hours on the phone to some very well respected organisations, and so my teeth really do grind together when I am greeting with "Good mornin'," or asked "Who's callin'?"

No - don't start imagining a West Country accent with all the charm that goes with it. I've no problem being greeted with a hearty "Good Mornin'" from a friendly farmer, perched aloft his tractor with a pint of scrumpy, chewing on an ear of corn. That I love, but some Chav who I can just picture with her fake tan, hooped earrings and Muppet of a boyfriend just serves to annoy me.

I mean, come on! When did the G at the end of words start to become silent?

Oh we can get lazier than that though can't we? The other day I actually heard someone say OMG - not text it, they actually said it with their voice. Now let's just think this through with some logic shall we? The words Oh my god have the exact same number of syllables as OMG - so there's no time saved there. But then what if someone overheard the comment and didn't actually know what OMG stood for? It happens - we're not all down with the kids. Well then the person has to explain it, thus taking over twice as long as the original comment and therefore making the entire abbreviation process UTTERLY REDUNDANT.

There's more - lots more, but I'll keep it to three for this week's blog and perhaps save up some more for next time. Recently the weather around here was very lovely - in fact it got a little too hot on one particular day. I commented along the lines of "It's getting a bit too hot out there," and the reply I got was simply "D'ya know what I mean?" NO! I know what I mean - you haven't actually said anything at all!

But let us allow this blog to become a forum. A chance for people to exorcise their demons with the written word, as opposed to a pair of nunchucks and a misguided sense of social responsibility. Please add your comments - what mutilation to our language annoys you? Come on, let's take back our mother tongue!

Some things just don't need to be said

2010-08-29T14:32:00.001-07:00

Now I make a point of watching the commercials on telly or listening to them on the radio. For me it’s a learning experience. Many of them use a quality of voiceover that I aspire to be. Sometimes you just hear a voice and you instantly know the product that they’re advertising. You know who we’re talking about, or perhaps more importantly, the brands in question.

Honda is one of my personal favourites. They use a guy called Garrison Keillor and his voice has the power to convince me that any product he’s talking about can be trusted. Any idea he mentions is sure to change the world. Let’s face it, if a company manages to hire a voice that gets you reaching for your wallet before you even know what you’re buying, then they have hit the jackpot.

Sadly, the majority of adverts in this country are a learning experience for entirely the opposite reason. These are the adverts that have the general public wondering just how something so awful could have made it onto the air. “Did they run out money?”, “Where do they find these morons?”, and so on.

| bet you’re thinking of one right now aren’t you? I am. There’s a double glazing company that employ this bloke with long wavy hair but nothing on top to essentially shout at you about their special offers. I can’t remember the name of the company, where they are based or what their phone number is. Now that’s what I call powerful advertising!

But there is the third breed. The advert that is produced well, voiced properly and edited nicely. It’s just that the script is utterly ridiculous. My personal favourite is for a firm offering laser eye surgery. “All of our procedures are carried out by experienced, qualified surgeons”. Well thanks very much! I was rather hoping you wouldn’t let the new work experience girl have a crack at my eyes with a massive frickin’ laser! Sure, she makes a lovely cup of tea but surely we have to draw the line somewhere.

We voiceovers are hired to interpret the words and bring them to life. We do the best we can with what we have but we have all of us learned not to question the wisdom of the copywriter, the director, the producer, the client’s representative - even that work experience girl with the big frickin’ laser.

And so to my quest. I want to put together the top 10 worst adverts of all time - as voted for by you. They can be poorly acted, badly shot, scripted by monkeys or voiced by people with the personality of grouting - whatever it is, post your comment, ideally with a You Tube link so I can see it for myself, and the results will be posted here soon, so stay tuned.

Speaking at the Airport

2010-08-21T10:23:00.000-07:00

Even though it’s a good two months before the family and I head off on our holidays - yes, I know, I’m working through the summer months whilst everyone else goes off to play melanoma roulette - I keep thinking about checking in at the airport.

Now the security people would have us believe that the security has been beefed up a lot in recent years. I’m sure it has, and it’s given rise to every cliche you can imagine whilst waiting in the queues:

“Of course, it wasn’t always like this, but what would you prefer, waiting an extra five minutes or getting on a plane with a terrorist?”

Interesting point, is there a third option where you get on the plane with the terrorist and I fly somewhere else? I’m thinking Florida....

The thing it, despite all of this new security, we’re still getting asked all the same questions as we get ready to pay an extra twenty pounds because our luggage has gone over the limit by half an ounce. It’s not my fault, my wife Shelly has never found a decent hair dryer in any hotel room ever, so she insists upon packing her own bloody salon in there! I’m allowed to make hair jokes - I have none of my own with which to make fun.

Again, it’s always the same questions - “Did you pack the bag yourself?”, “Could anyone have interfered with your bags?” blah blah blah. Now I don’t know about you, but I think that the terrorists........prepare yourself.......I think that they may have worked out the right answers.

I mean what did they think was happening on the 10th September? “Ahmed, what do you have for question one?......Oh, so I did pack the bag myself, wow that could have been really embarrassing.”

And we’re all absolutely terrified to try and make a little joke when speaking with the check in people. What do we think is going to happen? An immediate strip search just as soon as I suggest that I allowed some random stranger in army gear to pack my bag for me? It’s like the second we’re confronted with people in authority, our body language tells the world that we are guilty. It doesn’t matter what we’re guilty of, we just are and we really should be taken straight to prison - or hell - whichever is closer.

So if you should happen to work at airport security and have found this blog whilst googling job opportunities, I salute you, because most of us are apparently more terrified of you than we are of The Taliban. Hmmmm - putting that word into a blog - I wonder where else this is going to show up now?

And so it begins

2010-08-15T11:25:00.000-07:00

As a voice artist, I’m often asked to look at the multitude of different dialects that we have throughout this wonderful world of ours.

I certainly have my favourites - I enjoy some of the Eastern European dialects, which is handy if I ever want to get work on a building site. Of course, first I would have to learn a little something about building, because if it’s anything more complicated than putting up a shelf, you’re really better off calling the professionals.

Amongst my very favourite though is Welsh. Ah Wales - the country that gave us Tom Jones, Catherine Zeta Jones, Aled Jones and of course - Charlotte Church Jones.

Now in North Wales they are very proud of their language. All of their road signs are written in both English and Welsh - which is weird for place names because in most cases, the English name and the Welsh name are exactly the same. Maybe the sign makers were getting paid by the letter, so that’s a smart move on their part.

This is a language which is sometimes completely devoid of vowels. Seriously, there are words in that language that would choke an ordinary man before he got to the end of a sentence. It’s like melodic phlegm. And can you imagine what Welsh Countdown is like?

“I’ll have a consonant please.....and another.....and another.....and another......I think you know where I’m going with this” Thirty seconds later and they’ve managed five 7 letter words, two first names and the names of a couple of railway stations for good measure!

There are accents which lift the spirit, and there are accents which scare the living daylights out of people. I’m not going to name names here, because I’d hate to think my first blog was taken down on the grounds of incitement to racial hatred.

Anyway, in case you’re interested - I can do the Welsh accent if you need it.

Until next time.....