Learning to Listen

Shortly after my graduation from design school, the president of a printing firm called to ask if I would design an identity program for his firm. He wanted a symbol that would go on stationery and related materials and on a sign for his building.

I tried to be cool as I assured him that he had called the right person.

The evening before our appointment, I slicked up the portfolio and got ready to show my potential client God’s gift to the world of design.

When I arrived, a secretary took me to the president’s office and seated me in a chair centered in front of his desk, my unblemished portfolio placed carefully beside me on the floor.

He walked in without saying hello, glanced at my portfolio, and said, “I don’t need to see your work, I know what I want: a picture of Benjamin Franklin and his printing press.”

I picked up my portfolio and made for the door, saying, “You design it, I’ll bill you for it.”

I was fool enough to bill him; he was smart enough not to pay.

The delights of arrogance are fleeting. I soon regained some vestige of sense and saw that I was the loser. I had wanted to design an image for a real company. What would have been better than doing one for a printer?

Since that day I have held the congenial notion that almost no idea a client proposes is entirely vacuous; it’s what you do with it.

I now listen to any idea a client proposes. If I do my job well, I can learn from the client and the client can learn from me.