The Hidden Constraint: Part One
Here I am last Thursday. On a Lime bike, stuck at a red light, going nowhere fast, and yet…smiling.
That’s because it was one of my favourite days of the year. BBC Radio 6 Music’s annual T-Shirt Day. A simple idea – wear a band T-shirt, share a picture, tell the story behind it, and request a song.
The whole day, listeners’ choices, backed up by what the song and T-shirt mean to them. A great day to be by the radio.
The shacket compromise
The problem was – I was in London all day with potential clients. I’m not sure turning up in a crusty Blur gig T from 1998 would have projected quite the image I wanted…
The compromise? Stick a “shacket” over it.
Button up and cover the T-shirt, because of the image I wanted to give out. A compromise that was dangerously close to the person I used to be. Hiding my true “Mark-ness” to please whatever senior leader I was working with, rather than realising that it was my very personality that made me strong and unique.
Took me way too many years to learn that one. And I still need to remind myself on days like this. I may choose to cover parts of Mark up – but that tends to be much less frequent than it was.
1992, don’t believe the hype
So here I am, on my electric steed, navigating the joys of central London. When I took this photo I was stopped outside The Waldorf Hotel on Aldwych – waiting on a never-ending red light (yes, unlike a lot of my cycling peers, I do stop at traffic lights).
Why the smile? Well just at this moment, as I'm waiting for the buses in front of me to clear, on my bone-conducting headphones, on comes the choice of comedian Isy Suttie. Telling her story about her favourite band of the 90s and introducing a song with the opening lyrics: ‘1992, don't believe the hype….’
Yes of course, you all recognise it immediately, don’t you?
It’s Do Re Me, So Far So Good, by Carter USM. You know – they headlined Glasto that year? Anyone?
Just me then…
But that’s the point.
Postcards from our youths
For me (and a small group of my Brum Uni mates), Carter USM represent something more than catchy agitpop grebo tunes. (Ask your mum or dad if you are under 30).
They represent good times, friendship, and a complete abandonment of any study or social worries for the two hours we would spend screaming and crowd-surfing at their gigs across the West Midlands.
As Steve Lamacq – the originator of what was “Wear your Old Band T-Shirts to Work Day” back in 2007 – says, band Ts are like ‘postcards from our youths’.
They are not just clothes or fashion – they’re artefacts of our relationship with music. The gigs we’ve been to, the bands we’ve loved, the people we were with, and the person we were at the time.
And that’s why I had a stupid big grin on my face for the next 4 minutes as I fought my way through the traffic towards High Holborn. For a minute I was back at the Aston Villa Leisure Centre, 11 October 1993, in my long shorts and greasy hair – young, a bit drunk, and full of promise.
It’s hard to hold onto that promise – as we get responsibilities, ambitions, and become shackled by what we think others expect of us. It becomes too tempting to put that metaphorical shacket on and never take it off again.
So, even though I’d made my choice to conform earlier in the day, I reminded myself there and then to let go a bit and enjoy the things that make me happy. Even if it means singing like a loon on a bright green bike in the middle of stationary London traffic.
So what was under the shacket?
Finally, if you are still reading this far, I can hear you asking: ‘What T-shirt were you wearing Mark?’
Well, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out in The Hidden Constraint: Part Two…
In the meantime – what would you secretly love to wear to work, if all constraints were off?
I'm Mark - a leadership coach, consultant and cyclist based in Bedford. I work with senior leaders, teams, and HR professionals to deliver better performance - and live happier, healthier lives. 🚴🏾
