BEING HELPFUL IS IN OUR NATURE.

Back in the early 90s at art college in Taunton, two design agencies were spoken about with real reverence: Pentagram and Minale Tattersfield.

I interviewed several times at Pentagram and twice at Minale Tattersfield. My second interview was with Marcello Minale, a large, imposing figure with a magnificent Italian moustache.

Halfway through presenting my portfolio, he stopped me.

“Lee… geeze. How much do you want to start?”

I blinked. Interviews never go like that.

At the time, I was freelancing with an old-school designer, Darrell Ireland. It was just the two of us in a small studio, helping brands like J&B Whisky, Banks's Bitter, Knockando and plenty of Waitrose packaging (now that was a client who really knew their brand and what they stood for). The work was fantastic, and I learned a huge amount. I went to the interview with Marcello because he'd sent back the CV, I'd mailed months before, with the words 'call me' scribbled on it.

I didn't want to leave Darrell.

But, conversely, the chance to work for one of my design heroes was impossible to turn down.

When I told Darrell I was leaving, he didn’t take it well. For two weeks he barely spoke to me. Then, at the Christmas party, he admitted he’d miss me and hoped we’d stay in touch. It was touching.

Life at Minale’s

Joining Minale’s felt like joining a family. They treated people well, and the studio had a remarkable alumni network. It seemed like half the British design industry had worked there before starting their own agencies — from Turner Duckworth and P&W to Pearlfisher.

Around the turn of the millennium, one of Minale’s biggest clients consolidated its work with a single advertising agency. Most studios would have started making redundancies immediately.

Minale’s did the opposite.

Marcello took a pay cut. Then the partners did. Then everyone did until things stabilised. The studio rode out the storm together.

As Simon Sinek writes in Leaders Eat Last, numbers won’t save you — your people will.

That’s exactly what happened.

Moving On

After more than three years, I was headhunted by another studio. Handing in my notice was nerve-racking, but Marcello was generous about it and pleased that I was moving to another company with a good reputation.

Before leaving, I finished everything I could and wrote detailed handover notes, staying late on my final day to complete them. In my last pay cheque, they even returned the salary reductions we’d all taken.

A few days into my new job, I received a call from Dimitri, the partner I’d been assisting. A project I’d worked on had resurfaced, but my role hadn't been filled yet.

I still had the keys to the Richmond office.

That evening, after work, I went back, let myself in, finished the job and left it on his desk.

The next day, Dimitri called.

“The elves have been,” he said.

When you work somewhere with a great culture, where people feel valued, they go the extra mile.

That’s what good bosses and good people do.

Lee Newham
Partner
https://www.linkedin.com/in/leenewham/