The spirit of the word
Jim Witmer
One year ago tomorrow, my dad made it to the other side. He had recently turned 61 and was in perfect health but for a rare and fatal brain disease that appeared just a few weeks prior to his passing. I will eventually find better words, but suffice to say that last October was a gut-wrenching one; grief is love, and my love for my dad runs deep.
My dad was also an award-winning home brewer, having brewed beer since the 80s. He had a decorated career as a photojournalist, and beer was his parallel passion.
Last month, the WLCM team was all together in Lviv, Ukraine. Among other activities, we went to the Craft Beer and Vinyl Festival. I tried not to think too much about how much my dad would have loved that festival, and apparently my team could read my mind, because Lilia and Sergey presented me with a beer there I knew...
Lilia had contacted my brother via Instagram to get one of my Dad's recipes, her husband and our team's accountant brewed it expertly, Ann made custom labels, and they presented it to me as a surprise: a full case of my dad’s Tropical Kolsch. Tears were shed, pints were filled, and we all raised a glass to my dad with one of his beers. A piece of him could be there after all.
This is maybe the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me, and I still get more-than-misty when I think about it.
Our agency is called WLCM because of the spirit of that word. Our design philosophy is for the software we create to embody that spirit. But it's deeper than that. It's who we are and how we take care of each other. The enthusiasm with which this team schemes birthday surprises for each other says it all. The fact that they brewed my dad's beer for me takes it home.
This work is fulfilling because everything is in integrity.
There’s an old story about a rabbi who arrived at the gates of a Roman castle that goes roughly like this: The guard looks down at the rabbi and angrily booms, “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” The rabbi meets his gaze, “How much are they paying you to do that?” and the guard answers with his salary. The rabbi replies, “I’ll pay you ten times that to come to my house and ask me that question every time I wake up.”
Who are you and what are you doing here?
The meaning of the human experience as far as I’ve been able to tell is to see, hear and know others - and to be seen, heard and known in return. It is connection, community, and belonging. In other words, loving and being loved — welcoming and being welcomed. If we create that through our software, then we win every time. It’s at the heart of every UX, truly. It’s what we build, what we do for each other, who we are, and why we’re here.
Cheers.
