There’s a new Apple Watch commercial that starts with a man sitting next to his twin, an ever-so-slightly more motivated version of himself. The watch tells him it’s time to stand, and he gets up ready to keep pace with his other self. As they head outside, he sees another version of himself. And another. Each a little faster, stronger, fitter (happier, more productive, comfortable, not drinking too much, regular exercise at the gym, three days a week). Each passing him up.
The ad ends with “There’s a better you in you,” as the best version of the man jumps into the water, obviously wearing his Apple Watch. (Oh, look, it’s waterproof.)
It’s a great ad. We don’t see too many of those anymore.
It’s the kind of ad that reminds you you’re capable of being a better you than you are right now—and if you want it, you’re gonna have to work for it.
We all know about the untapped potential hiding within ourselves. There are things I know I’m capable of that I’m either too lazy or too scared to try. And I know the same is true for you. Don’t tell me it’s not.
But there are also things I’m open to trying because I feel like I have some sort of advantage. Marketing is one of those things. Somehow, I knew I had it in me. I knew because it was in my blood. I had a father who ran political campaigns, and there are various other pockets of creativity on both sides of the family. I didn’t start out where I am now. I had to work for it. But that initial sense of having it in me is what made me try.
You’re probably wondering what this has to do with furniture, and I’ll tell you.
The better me in me
There’s a piece of furniture in my family that’s almost become sort of a character in our stories. It’s terrified little girls and beat up little boys. I don’t know if it’s got a heart, but it’s definitely got soul—it sings every hour on the hour and has a bit of a nervous tick. And this piece of furniture tells me a lot about what I’ve got in me.
Because my great-grandfather built it.
And it’s beautiful and ornate and loud. And even after he’s long left us, it’s alive and still keeps a pretty good beat.
It’s a fancy grandfather clock and not really my style, but that’s not the point. The point is he made it. He carved it. Along with the coffee table in my parents’ living room. And the detail and skill I see are talents I know I have in me—talents yet to be released. One day, Gramps, I promise I’ll be patient enough to use them.
It’s weird how family connections create confidence and interest that might not otherwise exist. I don’t know if particular skills are really in anyone’s blood or if it’s just the familiarity with it that helps remove the fear. But I do know there are hundreds of better Bekas in Beka, and one of them carves kickass furniture like her great-grandfather.