Hey, boys and girls! Who wants to talk about the exciting world of compliance?? WHOO HOO!!!!!!!! Now don’t fight; you’ll all get to pick a topic. There’s corporate governance, policy management, incident reporting…so many goodies to choose from!

Alright, seriously, though. No one gets excited to hear about compliance. Why? Because the GRC industry has done a commendable job of making itself feel as horrifically staid and unexciting as possible. And while the work companies do in this space certainly requires a level of formality, the solutions they offer and the way they talk about them don’t.

Continue reading →

Sometimes, and only sometimes, we think it’d be nice to clone people.

Take, for example, Avinger CEO Dr. John B. Simpson. He invented a revolutionary tool called Ocelot that’s able to cut through plaque in patients with peripheral artery disease, which prevents doctors from having to amputate patients’ legs. Thanks to Doc Simpson, our client Avinger has saved 7,900 limbs and counting. Like Manfred Selenschik’s. He lives in Muenster, Germany, and can now walk pain-free.

Click to hear Manfred’s story.

Ocelot relies on a real-time intravascular imaging technology called Optical Coherence Tomography. Basically, it uses a camera as thin as a strand of hair to give doctors a direct view inside the artery they’re working on.

If you’re feeling horribly confused, imagine being the doctor who’s about to use this thing. As you might guess, learning to use Ocelot is a tad bit trickier than tying Velcro shoes. In the past, Dr. Simpson would be present at every operation to ensure it went smoothly. Now if we could clone the man, we would in a heartbeat. (We would also clone Jon Hamm a couple times.) But these days, an app seems to fix everything. So we built one.

The iPad app, called Avinger Beam, is a series of tutorials that teach you how to interpret OCT images. Which is basically a giant video game and makes us feel like we’re submarine captains in WWI. Captains fighting arterial plaque, of course. Beam shows you how to identify where the plaque is; then you get quizzed and it tells you if you’re right. (Or wrong, hopeless slackers. You are so not getting recess today.)

The interface is Avinger-slick, black, bold, and extremely easy to navigate. Not bad, eh? In the meantime, we’ll work on 3D printing Dr. Simpson.

What’s that you say? Our work for Carondelet Health Network won a Gold Addy in the Out-of-Home category? Well, sheesh. We don’t know what to say. Besides a happy, humble thank you. Thank you for this irregularly shaped hunk of Plexiglas that we can’t possibly share among the 17 of us who worked on the campaign. Thank you for filling Jenni and Jonny’s stomachs with free-flowing whiskey, gin, and meatballs at the awards gala. Without your help, there’s no way we could have sat still during that 1.5-hour PowerPoint in a dark room.

45 agencies and individuals submitted nearly 300 entries in this year’s San Francisco competition, and 20 Golds were awarded. We saw a lotta good work in that presentation (though we probably didn’t need to see it three times). Our heartfelt congratulations to all the winners.

Our client Nick at Carondelet was so excited to hear the news, he jumped up and hit “Purchase” on the order of Handerpants that had been idling in his shopping cart for weeks.

Truthfully, we have no idea why Nick bought these. Unless you’re a baby octopus, or you want to draw attention by, say, being featured on your agency’s blog, we can’t think of one defensible reason for purchasing this product. We hope you’re happy, Knickerpants.

Beeteedubs: What kind of bully came up with the name “Addy”? Is that a cruel joke, giving people awards while simultaneously implying that their ads are small, inferior, or (God forbid) adorable? Ohh, look at the cute little Addy! Aren’t you a good boy?  

Just kidding. We’re beaming, on the inside and out.

Jenni, Jonny, and Awards Night Emcee. Remember when Jonny was just an overworked, underappreciated intern whom we almost kicked out onto the streets? It’s hard to believe how far he’s come (not to mention what d-bags we were).

If you could choose your own family, would you? Actually, don’t answer that. We don’t want any trouble. But chew on this: If you’re an entrepreneur, you kind of can choose your family. Not the kind who’ll lovingly change your putrid diapers,  but the kind who will unwaveringly support you and see the genius in your seemingly balderdashian ideas.

Continue reading →