salas public relations, llc

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Flights into Austin Bergstrom International Airport always seem full. The Texas Capital City always attracts a crowd, and unlike passengers flying into Newark, airline passengers heading into Austin always appear like happy campers. It’s not Disney World, but Austin comes close, especially when you compare the fun factor. Just ask one of the thousands of SXSW happy campers who are back at work this week. Most likely their story of Austin and SXSW will be a lasting memory. It’s the kind of memory that any chamber of commerce dreams of for its city. It’s the kind of memory that lures people to move here, not just visit here. However, these are the memories residents create here every day.

Austin is no longer the sleepy college town where hippies hang and politicians periodically hover. The energy level is high, always. And energy attracts energy. The University of Texas, Concordia University, Austin Community College and St. Edward’s University all generate an energy of intellect. Countless coffee shops churn out creative works by a covey of entrepreneurs collaborating behind their laptops. Artistic expressions don the walls of museums and informal galleries, and music fills the air from a random corner, a footbridge over Lady Bird Lake or from atop a rooftop lounge downtown. These are the daily habits of a city I call home. And one of the fun periods to tap into the city’s rich brew is when so many residents flee it.

As Austin locals turned their homes into short-term hotels and escaped for a spring break, visitors poured into Waterloo like a tsunami and flooded our restaurants, our trailer vendors, and our streets with a carefree feeling that makes Austin a magical place. And for the locals who stuck around, the show was practically free. No hotel fees. No HomeAway rental expenses. No airline tickets. No real hassle.

A strategic drop off point put me and my high school- and college-age kids into the thick of all things SXSW. Free music, free drink, free food samples and a free-flowing crowd made for great entertainment. It was an instant flashback to college and a time when living in Austin was affordable. The abundance of music was compelling. I could not keep myself from dancing freely in the streets, much to the embarrassment of my offspring who wished I was elsewhere for this March madness. They would say, some things are best kept at home.

Our Downtown Austin Alliance could not have ordered better weather, and the SXSW organizers pulled together an incredible array of talent. A National Public Radio crew from New York was on the scene at Auditorium Shores for a live simulcast. The Big Apple was getting a taste of the real fruit, and the NPR crew was thrilled to be here because Austin was delivering on its promise of being a fun city, a creative city, a city of collaboration and cause to celebrate.

The City of Austin’s brand profile is very high right now. Mickey Mouse should consider being a rock star.

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Everyone has a computer story. This is mine.

Within the past year, my family made the leap into Mac World. Farewell to PCs and to the treat of viruses. Hello to hipster computer technology, innovation and superlative customer service. The purchase of two 13″ MacBook Pros for my two college-age students, an impressive looking 21.5″ iMac for the home, and a 17″ MacBook Pro for me to use for my small business. Who needs a secretary when you have Apple’s Mac and iPhone?

Fast forward five months.

Wednesday. My laptop assistant performs with precision during one meeting. However, during the next meeting, without warning or any hint of disaster, the MacBook Pro does not respond to a restart. The convenience of making an appointment at the nearest Apple store lets me belly up to the Genius Bar within the hour for a technical consult. David, with title of Genius, kindly evaluates my problem. The hard drive is bad, and needs to be replaced. Thank goodness for warranties.

Unfortunately, Apple does not have my hard drive in stock. Sending the computer out for free repair will take from three-to-five business days. I wonder to myself whether I should take an unplanned vacation or just file for Chapter 11. Furthermore, Apple does not provide assistance to help recover the data from its failed hard drive. I am kindly directed to a local service provider that can help me figure that out. I am welcome back to the Genius Bar at my convenience and Apple will send out my computer for a hard drive replacement. However, the expense to recover my data is my burden to bare. I need my data. It’s my business.

Thursday. I deliver my MacBook Pro early in the morning to trustworthy Heroic Efforts , and explain the issue. A very computer-savy Matthew explains the process for data recovery, and if successful, I may incur a $400 price tag. It’s worth it, I rationalize to myself. I need my data. It’s my business. I leave my ill laptop secretary with Matthew, and drive to Houston to pursue a new potential client opportunity. I’m grateful for my iPhone to keep me tethered to email.

Thursday afternoon. Kind Matthew calls with the bad news. My hard drive failure is beyond his capability. The next step is to send the device to a formal clean room for exploratory surgery to discover if my data can be salvaged and restored to me. If successful, the cost will run me approximately $1,700, equivalent to the cost for a brand new Apple MacBook Pro product. Unfortunately, my laptop secretary is not included in my healthcare coverage, and this expense is equivalent to paying my out of my pocket annual deductible. It does not require an Apple Genius to determine that this is the point of no return.

Friday. I pick up my MacBook Pro from Matthew. There is no fee for his bad news. I am grateful, but as I drive to the Apple store to deliver my laptop for a replacement hard drive, my anxiety begins to build.

Friday, 11:45 AM. The Apple attendant greets me, and within a few minutes, I take my seat at the Genius Bar, across from Holland, no Genius title. She gets the serial number from the computer, as I discreetly explain my disappointment in the Apple product. Now that I am in front of an Apple employee, I can feel my disappointment becoming personal. It’s not personal with Holland, but it is personal with Apple and its brand.

My deliberate display of discretion at the Genius bar is in response to the store setting. Other Apple customers with their own problems intimately flank me on the left and right. There is no privacy for complaints here, and I don’t want to be the screaming customer that others stare at and wonder whether he is concealing a handgun. I express my position clearly: I’m disappointed in the performance of the Apple product, and I do not want to wait three-to-five days longer for a repair job. I want to walk out with a working computer, preferably a new one.

My request is an impossibility, explains Holland in a calm but equally deliberate clear tone. I ask to speak with the manager. Michael — not a manager but the lead — comes out to greet me in front of the Genius Bar. His willingness to come to my side of the counter is a personal display of concern, and creates intimacy with the customer.

In response, I put on my kind consumer face and use my calm but condemning consumer voice as I explain my situation. I do not play frisbee or toss my laptop around like a toy, I explain to Michael. I express my understanding of Apple’s brand promise, and express my appreciation and expectation for superlative customer service. However, the product did not live up to my expectation as a customer, and leaving without a working computer was not acceptable to me. Michael, the lead, listens carefully, but expresses the same response as Holland. Unfortunately, he is not able to replace my five-month-old computer. I asked if he clearly understands the expectation that Apple’s brand creates with me as a customer, and if he clearly understands that I am not satisfied with Apple’s lack of fulfilling, or coming close to fulfilling, that expectation. He understands. It does not seem to matter.

What I really wanted to say was that if Michael, the lead, did not do everything he could to replace my computer, I would leave the store prepared to begin the loudest virtual scream I could possibly muster. However, I politely acknowledge his position, and request that he begin doing what is necessary so that I can begin doing what I must do in order to recreate everything that was lost because of Apple’s product failure. Michael, the lead, retreats to the back, and I sit quietly at the Genius Bar wondering if Apple considers it genius not to satisfy this customer’s request.

Within a few minutes Holland returns and tells me that they were able to find a hard drive for my laptop, and that within a few minutes I should be up and running, but without any historical data. Hmmm. One minute, there is nothing available (not even at the other Apple store in town) and I’m faced with up to five days of delay. The next minute there is a hard drive for my laptop. I believe in miracles.

Was it genius to find a hard drive or genius to get me to purchase the $300 Time Capsule product that backs up my computer and protects me from a future similar encounter at the one bar in town I do not care to frequent?

1:00 PM. I walk out with my MacBook Pro freshly recovering from its lobotomy, and I am careful not to let the door hit me on my way out. I begin anew with a clean slate. I for one do not believe that one bad apple can spoil the whole bunch. However, one bad Apple can spoil the brand.

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News of the recent death of Mr. Fitness, Jack LaLanne, came to me via my iPhone. It was news of interest, but life for me that day continued as usual. I worked. I attended a lunch meeting. I participated in a meeting over dinner. I did not exercise beyond the necessary walking to and from my car, and the swivel from my laptop to the writing surface of my desk. I’m a fit man of the 21st Century.

Jack LaLanne, way my senior, opened his first health club in 1936, almost 20 years before my parents even considered having me as their fourth child. His influence on me in particular was a blip, a brief few encounters on a black and white television screen. However, his physique made an indelible impression on my brain.

Fast forward to 2011. Everyone, especially the Baby Boomers, wants to be fit, or at least look it. Fitness clubs abound, and before work, people are in a frenzy running on treadmills and spinning on cycles to nowhere. Meanwhile, I am enjoying my morning coffee, grateful for the comfort it gives me and the mild sweat it causes on my brow. A few calories burned.

One of my New Year’s resolutions is to stay in shape. I like to run a four or five mile loop around Lady Bird Lake every now and then. I want to do it more often. I like to participate in fun runs, and I especially like being the first in the family to cross the finish line. “It’s not a race,” I always tell my kids. “It’s a fun run.” Then, I strategically use my wisdom to pace myself so I can have the speed in the end to pull out a win! As age gains its advantage, I feel like I am loosing mine in the fun run category. I must stay in shape. If Jack LaLanne could do it, so can I.

I enlisted my youngest son, Matthew, into joining me for a simple training program to add strength and speed to my running. This is the beginning of my training for the 2011 Capital 10K fun run. I pulled the “how to” from browsing through a recent issue of GQ Magazine, while waiting for a haircut.

Day one: I tell Matthew, “This training is not a race. We are running against ourselves to make us stronger and faster.” He waxes me on all four quarter-mile sprints. The two-minute rests between sprints was not nearly enough for me to collect my aging thoughts about why I wanted to do this. Yet, on day three, it’s me out there on my own, focused like Mr. Fitness to make the exercise fun and productive. I can do this. I can do this until I’m 96. I can do this ’til my legs fall off.

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My love for coffee — caffeine really — began as a student at the University of Texas at Austin. It was the perfect introduction to civility and to cheesecake, which became my favorite dessert at Cafe Camille, a little house-turned-restaurant nestled on Kerbey Lane.

During the late 70s, enjoying company and conversation over a cup of coffee was far from both Wall Street and Main Street. Our culture’s taste buds and high octane lifestyle were fast asleep, and the brew from Seattle was merely beginning to perk.

Fast forward to our current “fast food nation” and the epidemic spread of Starbucks. After our long collective gasp of disgust over the audacity of McDonald’s to supersize practically everything, the company responded by downsizing its portions of poison so deliciously deep-fried or coated with special sauce.

Meanwhile, a growing number of consumers were settling comfortably into the soft seating of a neighborhood Starbucks, feeding our addiction to the coffee bean. Starbucks was the fast-food cultural trendsetter; its corporate social responsibility platform made its coffee smoother, worth the price. Forget the jumbo fries and extra-large drink. Ordering in Italian was all the rage. Americans wanted Grande or Venti.

The wise Solomon got it right when he penned, “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” In the nothing-new-under-the-sun category, Starbucks supersizes its coffee. The only thing new is another Italian word in our vocabulary. Can you say, Trenta?

Starbucks turns its back to the customer while pouring us an extra large serving of joe. It’s as if the new Trenta and its supersize price point signal salvation for Starbucks, which means salvation for our country. The over-caffeinated will lead the way to our economic recovery. After a couple of Trentas, our energy level for business will be like a frenzied day on Wall Street.

The new Trenta by Starbucks will eventually supersize the heart rates of our obese nation, and we will find ourselves dying on the dotted line before our jittery hand can sign on it. Do you smell a bad deal?

I think I will stick with Grande, thank you very much.

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The idea of commissioning a sculpture of Willie Nelson bounced around like a super ball, full of energy and likely never to land. However, over time, the right pieces began falling into place. Beau Armstrong and Stratus Properties landed the gig to develop Block 21 in the southern hotspot of downtown Austin. The W Hotel Austin would take up residence there along with its high-rise condominiums offering un-obstructive views of beautiful Lady Bird Lake. Then the famed Austin City Limits confirmed that it would be part of the cluster, extending the live music scene from the University of Texas campus and from East Sixth Street across Congress Avenue into what will be a coveted performance venue.

Suddenly the bouncing ball began to get heavy like clay. The idea began to grow some legs, and the legs were of a man named Willie Nelson. The board of Capital Area Statues, Inc. (CAST), the small non-profit that brought Austin the bronze sculptures of Philosophers’ Rock and Angelina Eberly, voted unanimously to commission a statue of the musical icon, and zeroed in on Block 21 as the preferable place for the new work to stand.

Historically, CAST commissions the work of sculpture, raises private funds from local residents, private foundations and sometimes corporate interests, and then presents its finished works as gifts to the City of Austin. Then, upon accepting the works of sculpture, the City agrees to maintain the bronze works as part of its collection of art in public places. This is how Willie Nelson will come to stand near the intersection of Lavaca Street on Second Street, the street that now bears the honorary name of Willie Nelson Blvd.

The sculptor Clete Shields molded a fantastic clay resemblance of the performer who played the first gig for Austin City Limits. Recently, a few members of the CAST Board of Directors visited Shields in his Philadelphia studio to help provide guidance on the final changes before the cast is poured. The sculpture stands larger than life and captures the persona of the Willie we all love. It’s hard to imagine, but looking into the carved eyes of this statue will cause draw many viewers back to that intimate concert or packed special event when they knew Willie was looking directly at them with a twinkle in his eye that has failed to diminish over time. This statue is for everyone, and its planning, production and placement come together with great forethought and collaboration.

Now it’s time for you to make your contribution to help finish this great work of sculpture. All contributions are welcome by CAST, but donors of $10,000 or more also receive a numbered limited edition bronze maquette of Willie Nelson, and their names in bronze that will accompany the larger sculpture in downtown Austin. The W Hotel is now open for business. Residents of the higher condominiums are making themselves at home. KLRU public television prepares for its inaugural concert in its new downtown venue. The plaza of Block 21 is ready for Willie. Help CAST bring him to Austin for everyone to enjoy.

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During 2010, SHAPE magazine included Austin, TX, in its top 10 list of fittest cities in the U.S. It’s young, vibrant lifestyle contributes to the population’s bragging rights of being one of the less obese cities in America.

However, the psychographics of a population that is marked by a vibrant, fit lifestyle is not necessarily a trait tied to a younger demographic. Being fit and vibrant is an attitude that extends across generations. It is as much a state of mind as it is a lifestyle. This is a psychographic trait of long-time Austin residents that helped influence the attractiveness of the capital city to a younger population segment. The abundance of parkland, the flowing recreational resources of Lady Bird Lake, Barton Springs and their surrounding trails have been around longer than the average age of the city’s residents. Today’s old-timers in Austin have been taking advantage of these and other outdoor resources long before there were formal hike and bike paths. The formality of these things are mere extensions of a perspective of fitness and love of the outdoors that was birthed here long ago.

The photo of this gentleman was one of many captured in a slideshow by the Austin American-Statesman, the city’s daily newspaper, in its photo summary that captures the essence of Austin during 2010. The photographer, Ralph Barrera, gives us a glimpse of a spirited man of 88 practicing his stroke at the Lions Municipal Golf Course in West Austin. Although tethered to his oxygen tank, you can detect the vibrant attitude of this man who loves taking advantage of one of the jewels that lures Austin outdoors. The gentleman is Cesar A. Salas, Sr., my dad. I’d say he has a winning perspective.

My perspective is that if we are not careful to guard these outdoor places that lure us, then we endanger the vibrant lifestyle that has attracted people to Austin since Angelina Eberly fired the city’s canon so long ago. Although recognized as a Texas Historical Landmark, the Lions Municipal Golf Course may become mince meat if the UT System Board of Regents decides to fully pursue the recommendations for how best to leverage its real estate, which we have all come to love.

>Communicators — or so-called communicators — are in abundance these days. However, in reality many of these self-professed titles exceed the capabilities of those who possess them. For example, today I received an email from a PR firm wishing me a “Happy New Years!” This made me wonder about the term, and its proper use.

Maybe the wish of “Happy New Years” is colloquial to certain boroughs of the northeast or small West Texas towns. However, it does not show up as a formal or proper use of the term anywhere I can find. There are New Year’s resolutions, a New Year’s Eve, but I cannot seem to find Happy New Years anywhere but in the context of confusion or error. However, I am open to the coaching, if someone can steer me in a different direction.

In fact, the correct term is “Happy New Year.” The year 2011 is a single year, and the salutation covers a 12-month period. As a result, to wish someone a “Happy New Years,” reflects poor grammar. Any professional in the communication field begins the New Year making a bad impression when he marginalizes what should be a foundational strength of the profession.

It’s a New Year. May 2011 be the year you pursue using good grammar and writing with clarity. I am up for the challenge. Are you?

>For a while, now, I have been enjoying the television commercial campaign for Allstate. However, the newest spot featuring Dean Winters as the netted Christmas tree that comes lose from the roof of a car is surely to become a classic. The creative captures a quintessential American tradition and a scenario that hits a home run. It’s a great reminder of the value of insurance and how it can provide you security against the most unsuspecting circumstances. As Americans continue to look to insurance companies with suspect, Allstate is building its brand equity with consumers leveraging mayhem and humor to stimulate consumers to think about their coverage and perhaps consider a switch to a new insurance company.

As a further extension of connecting insurance to the Christmas season, the company uses a 12 Days of Christmas spot that mixes different scenes from the campaign. The compilation is sure to put a smile on your face and build your affection for the brand.

Bravo Allstate! Mayhem does not have to take Merry out of Christmas.

>Those who know me know that I love sex. I admit it, but what I also love is programs like Austin LifeGuard that serve as a resource for teens and parents of teens who need help dealing with the facts about sex, especially teen sex. Today, Austin LifeGuard released select data from a study of Austin teenagers and parents of teenagers on the subject of sex. The results reveal a huge gap between the views of parents and teens. Nothing new, I guess, but parents are really off the mark when it comes to understanding the attitudes and behaviors of their teens. Amanda Brown, director of Austin LifeGuard, spoke about the survey today, and Austin’s Fox 7 News covered the story. http://www.myfoxaustin.com/video/videoplayer.swf

>Everyone wants to be cool, in his own way. No one wants to be un-cool. We glean the social columns, photo pages and advertisements to see who went to which event, to discover the new cool place to dine or to be seen, or to define our own style and fashion. It’s Austin’s nature to be cool. Cool directs the new trend. Cool serves as a foundation of new start-up companies. And cool supports the business strategy for long-term survival, especially now that economic times are tough.

In our city, art is inspiring us to be cool, and an exhibition at the Blanton Museum is rousing a bevy of local businesses and organizations to collaborate in a bid to energize Austin before our overly cautious consumption and the heat of summer further slow us down.

“Birth of the Cool: California Art, Design and Culture at Midcentury,” the Blanton Museum of Art’s featured exhibition on the University of Texas campus, is like a spring economic development stimulus package that places art at its center. The exhibit’s collection of works by creative artists who helped develop the style of high modernism demonstrates how forms, ideals and expressions of one generation can stimulate a new generation of businesses to rally around art as a means of injecting life into our current economic doldrums. Named after the influential Miles Davis jazz album, the exhibition gives Austin an opportunity to crank up the volume on its own creative expressions to chill out this recession and soak up the cool things we love about our city.

Art serves as the platform to launch local alliances. However, the collaborative seed was planted nearly two years ago when the Blanton added the exhibition to its calendar and began cultivating synergy with likely and unlikely sources. No one imagined then that now, more than ever, Austin needs something cool to happen that will stimulate our spending in local record stores, at local movie houses and theaters.

So, whether out of desperation or creativity, the concept of collaborating around an art exhibit seems like a cool idea, and the door is wide open for building on that concept. The Austin Film Society and the Alamo Drafthouse are presenting a special 1950s film series starting in late March that captures the era that created cool. The Elephant Room is presenting a musical series that honors the post-war period, and several restaurants, wine bars and other venues are planning discounts to encourage consumption of cool food and drink. Local radio and television will leverage their respective frequencies to refresh our minds about the rich cultural awakening of the 1950s.

Art is creating the vibe that is reinvigorating business attitudes about trying something new to capture the attention of their customers. Creative collaboration extends the art experience into experiences of taste, sound, entertainment, architecture and décor. However, the possibilities are limitless if more Austin business owners put their minds to it and let the essence of cool permeate the local economic landscape. If more local businesses do this well, we all will rediscover that collaboration is not a measure of last resort, but a first step toward ongoing success. Collaborating is what Austin should do best because it unleashes our creativity, and creativity stimulates action.

So act cool Austin. Find someone to collaborate with on an idea that makes this slow period pass quickly. Collaboration is cool, and who doesn’t want to be cool?

(As published 03.16.09 in the Austin American Statesman)