Thanks to some personal problems, a dose of bad luck and a fair lack of talent, I didn’t get to work in a London agency when I graduated. After a spell as a gymn instructor, my first proper job was media sales at the Independent. And I hated it. There was one saving grace, and that was my ultimate boss, the editor at the time, Andrew Marr. He’s hero 4. to add to Rutherford, Matt Biondi and Agassi.
Marr is a kind, thoughtful man. He’s also a wonderful writer, but by his own admission, he was a hopeless editor.
Basically he was in the wrong job. He’s a great, great journalist, but not so good at managing budgets and dealing with business people. When he was fired, it hurt pretty bad, but ever since then he’s gone from strength to strength. He was always one of the few people in the country who was in the political circle; when he went back to political journalism, he was simply doing what he was always meant to do. What followed was a long stint as BBC political correspondent, Radio 4 stalwart, programme maker, book writer (this book on journalism is brilliant, and I’m looking to forward to reading this history of postwar Britain) and nationally treasure.
Now the keenness of his mind, the grace with which he writes and the wonderful, modest, ordinariness of the man would be enough, but in the end, he gets on the list thanks to the way he overcame a confidence crushing experience to bounce back more successful than ever before. He had the courage to admit he’d failed because he just wasn’t good enough at at it, and started again at something he was born to do.
This has significant meaning for me, as a former, very average account man who went through something I still find it hard to talk about. But I was never going to be a happy suit, I was supposed to be a planner, not the best in the world, but it’s what I’m meant to do. I’m so happy I had the courage to risk the switch.
Sometimes failure is the best thing that can happen to you. Not because it teaches you how to get better – sometimes it shows you CAN’T do better, you’re supposed to do something else. People like Marr are living proof that all it takes is courage. Put another way, be who you are.
And on that note, I’ve got to be inspired by a funny looking bald fellow (someone came up to him and said, "You look just like that Andrew Marr bloke, you poor sod") who’s done alright. If you’ve ever seen me you’ll know what I mean.

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