In Bob Herbert’s recent New York Times column, he uses a phrase that triggered a response in my aging brain: “worst-case scenario.” The context for these three words was the horrible oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and BP’s apparent surprise that something this horrendous could happen. Thinking about the concept at the heart of this little saying, I began to wonder if there’s something wrong with the way we calibrate for catastrophes. Perhaps our determined cultural optimism (or, more correctly, our collective anxiety about negative consequences) is one reason that otherwise brilliant people resist thinking about how bad things could really get. “Worst-case scenario” planning is turning out to be one planning practice that’s in urgent need of a complete re-think.
Anybody else have any theories?
Photo Credit: Scave
Like many people still in business today, I don’t read the paper anymore. Actually, I scan it. Or rather, I scan the headlines and the synopsis that The New York Times kindly e-mails me every morning. And last week, I realized that a new “R” word is creeping into our daily media diet. Not “recession”—that’s old hat now—but “reset.”
Every evening, I take the train from the heart of NYC to my house in leafy Scarsdale, a place that’s been experiencing some unfamiliar financial pain over the past 12 months. The advertising that adorns the New Haven Line is tailored to the wealthy—but increasingly anxious—commuters who rush in and out of Wall Street and Madison Avenue: luxury watch brands, newspapers that chronicle capitalism, professional services firms, etc.
Everyone knows that some categories get creamed in a recession while others soar.
