Real life according to MKR
David Attenborough teaches us about the birds and the bees, Four Corners reveals what’s happening in the world, but for real lessons in life, I reckon you can’t go past MKR.
Yes, it’s over-produced and the cross-marketing is shameless and the catty contestants always [itals] say[end itals] they’re misrepresented and the ads go on forever ... but there’s nothing this show can’t teach us about self-respect, teamwork and how to get ahead.
Be humble, first and foremost.
Don’t be like beauty queens Lisa and Candice, WA’s self-consumed mother and daughter team currently plumbing the depths of the Group 2 scoreboard.
If they’d just shown one tiny, wafer-thin-mint slice of humility, they might not be Busselton-bound tomorrow night.
Less deluded contestants would have said “we had our shot and we were crap – and in hindsight that mid-course Flamenco routine was a tad superfluous”? Instead they bad-mouthed at every
opportunity and alienated other voters around the table.
Yes of course Lisa and Candice’s personalities have been exaggerated by the sly editing of producers hell-bent on ratings glory. But their direct quotes to camera (“Yuk”, “I could have done that!” etc,
etc) suggest this beauty is skin deep.
More lessons: the ends do not justify the means. Good manners cost nothing. And a generous heart will be repaid in kind.
Tassie’s terrific father and son team Mick and Matt didn’t have a bad word to say about anyone, and eventually came out on top of Group 1. See kids, nice guys don’t always finish last.
MKR reinforces the importance of being organised and methodical; that failing to prepare is preparing to fail; and that distractions are a curse. (I can’t believe how many of these teams have lingered over breakfast, or read their stars in the newspaper, or wasted time on their restaurant themes instead of being ready to roll when the clock struck 3:00.)
And speaking of distractions, this show also brilliantly highlights just how pointless and downright boring Twitter can be. The comments scrolling in the corner are notable only for their banality.
It’s said that the more you talk, the less you say. It’s also true that the less you say, the more people are likely to listen when you find your voice.
Judges Pete Evans and Manu Feildel are men of few words on the show, but their comments are wisely chosen: criticism is firm but fair, while failings are followed by constructive or kind advice.
I’ve got no idea what these blokes are like in real life, but we’ve all worked for Aussie bosses who’d do well to adopt a little best-behaviour, onscreen charm.
On a reality cooking show, you’d think the contestants would know to let their food do the talking – or at least match their mouthiness with a damn fine meal.
Group 1 losers Jessie and Biswa? Big mouths, bad meal. Group 2 trailblazers Luke and Scott? Softly spoken, super score. If you don’t have anything nice to say, keep your MKR mouth shut.
Celebrate small victories. Focus on the positives. Never sing at the dinner table.
And keep it simple, stupid. Queenslanders Dan and Steph clearly love their tucker, but no-one needs a chocolate brownie, vanilla ice-cream, cookie dough, popcorn and salted caramel sauce to round out a three-course meal that also includes confit salmon and braised slabs of bacon.
I’m surprised their guests didn’t explode over Harvey Bay.
Dan and Steph did teach us something valuable, though, about pulling together when chocolate brownie hits the fan. They didn’t apportion blame when the main and dessert went awry. They squared their shoulders, rallied the troops (each other), came up with solutions and carried on.
So, who’d have thought you could learn so much in an hour of populist, altered reality TV?
And I haven’t even mentioned “melt-in-the-marth” pastry and the need for a “good sose”.
I love the idea of small funky bars popping up in the CBD, but I question whether they need to cater for up to 120 people. I love the idea of groovy little food vans too, but I can understand why they might make local restaurant and cafe owners nervous when they pull up on their patch. Established business owners who’ve put in the hard yards and invested heavily in bricks and mortar, employees and overheads are all essential for Adelaide’s vibrancy, too. I’m impatient for change in Adelaide, but let’s get it right.
No wonder federal Liberal MPs were busy showering ex-PM Kevin Rudd with chocolate Valentine’s Day roses in Parliament House on Thursday. Mr Rudd’s been their star performer this week in the election battle against Julia Gillard.
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