I am one of the World's Greatest Salespeople, FACT!

You may have heard it on the news, you may have read it in the papers and you may have even seen my video. One things for sure though, my life will never be the same again. The past few weeks have been a real turning point. I'd like to thank everyone involved so far for their support and encouragement.

For those of you that the message has not reached, I've been engaged in a battle of the bricks; blocks of clay have been thrown and small little red lines have been drawn. The revolution has truly begun. You came in your hundreds and supported my work, when really; it’s your effort that should be congratulated. You joined the revolution; you formulated uses for a useless 19th century building aid and you have ultimately shaped this outcome. I always believed the Red Brick was not obsolete, thank you all for believing in me. Let “the power of intrinsic value” be sung from the highest rooftops.

Almost a month ago OgilvyOnes’s – search for the world’s greatest salesperson – competition began and it’s hard to believe I’ve made it to this point. Last Sat I was nominated to the top 10 “world’s greatest salespeople”, as the competition reached its second phase. It just goes to show what we can do when we rally together. The Red Brick will truly be saved thanks to Ogilvy and our revolution.

There have been highs and there have been lows, there have even been those little annoying bits in between that nobody really likes. However, the wait is not over, the end is not insight and the hard work has only just begun. Its time to pull out my ‘A’ game, write like I’ve never written before, interview like there's no tomorrow and sell sell sell. After all, MY DREAM DEPENDS ON IT.

Through the looking glass. Part 2 - The long awaited sequel

The truth is that you can’t beat a good old mishap, as long as it’s someone else in the firing line. It’s pretty obvious that as a race, humans love to see people “fail”. Most of the time it’s not cruel, it just puts your life into perspective and gives you a warm fuzzy feeling inside. There are plenty of YOUTUBE videos advertising this fact. Ok, so it may be a little sadomasochistic, but everyone laughs eventually, as long as ultimately the poor hapless individual is still alive and in once piece afterwards. On that note, I must inform you all of my latest “fail”.

My recent excursion to European Asia, Macau, ended with one of the scariest experiences of my life. I have an innate trust that I believe all my fellow Brits share; no matter where we travel in the world (except the Middle East of course) we will be received with open arms. This has been the case throughout my life, thanks to her Majesty’s most gracious gift; The British Passport. My Great British belief, however, came crashing down when retuning through Hong Kong immigration.

I had been slightly nervous all day about approaching the immigration desk, seeing as my holiday Visa was a month from running out and as a badly balding 23 year old man, I often get odd looks on the few occasions I am asked for ID; my driving license, passport, student card and pretty much any photo ID I have were taken around 4 years ago, when I had hair. I was expecting the usual, leading questions and dark looks, however, nothing to the extent of what happened upon handing over my passport.

From upside down, I could make out the official type the four worst words in the immigration language; STOP, PREVENT, ARRIVAL and HOLD. My heart began to race, my palms began to sweat and my head began to spin. My passport was confiscated as I was marched from the queue, told to sit in a waiting area, and left to the sole destroying darkness of my thoughts.

Anyone in a situation such as this will tell you that panic is a natural occurrence, and most will break down and spill everything for hopes of striking a deal. I managed to regain my calm, however, by telling myself that they didn’t now anything, they had no clue and in fact where probably waiting for me to say too much, and get myself in trouble. I was reminded of my Psychology degree (Game theory and the Prisoner Dilemma) and how the situation would most likely plan out.

First they make you sweat while they check your background, then they take you into a dark room where your defences are weakened by their authoritarian and overwhelming stature and potential power, where you eventually break under your own doing, and end up being deported. I had decided, however, as most good cop films have taught me, to stay quiet and figure out exactly what they knew before I said anything.

As I was taken from one very lonely place in my head, to another altogether equally lonely place in their interrogation room, I tried my hardest to keep my heart rate low and my wits about me. I was informed that they were very concerned with both the quality of my passport, and the youthful nature of my picture. I explained about the rigorous issues of genetic premature baldness, the mishap with a luggage label sticking three of the pages together, and why I was returning to Hong Kong in the first place. I told the truth, explained the situation, and after a few trick questions from several immigration officers, I was eventually let past on my own merit.

In all truthfulness there were several moments when I thought I was really in trouble, half way round the world from my family. The reality of my situation in Hong Kong and the altogether nature of being this far from home had really set in. I have never experienced homesickness, but I came close that day.

Despite all this, I will be going back to Macau, I’m just going to change all my ID photo’s and get a new passport before I contemplate any more day trips.