I hadn’t looked at any of these pics in quite a few years. I knew I didn’t have the time to walk down memory lane, so I didn’t dare to start looking. OK well, just one peek into a mini photo album big enough to fit one 4 x 6 picture in each plastic sleeve. I had to look. Opening it revealed pictures from my 10-year high school reunion. But Irene was coming, so I closed the book and stuffed it away in the storage cabinet.

In the age of digital photography, does anyone keep current photo albums like this anymore? If so, please tell me what’s in it. What would be in it if you did keep an old-fashioned photo book? I think many of us have forgotten that uneasy feeling while waiting in line at the film development shop, wondering if our pictures would even come out right. I still have six months worth of pictures on my digital SLR camera and am still trying to figure out how to get them on my Mac. So they’re light years away from getting printed and inserted into a photo album.

How are photo printing businesses doing now anyway, now that Kodak has stopped producing 35mm film?

Last Sunday morning, three New York police officers removed a college English professor from a Starbucks after she started a shouting match with the barista who took her order for a bagel. The New York Post reported that the outburst was caused by a dispute over semantics, but I think the actual problem stems from a basic failure of communication.

My theory is that the English professor, predisposed for a conflict, inferred the barista’s original inquiry as a restricted choice limited by some Starbucks policy she was prepared to fight against with proper grammar.

Doesn’t everything come down to effective communication? The customer, who earned a Ph.D. from Columbia University, admitted that she has a history of conflicts with Starbucks for refusing to use its special branding lingo when ordering coffee. The Post article reported, “Instead, she insists on making a pest of herself by ordering a ‘small’ or ‘large’ cup of joe.” So she was probably already hot before she ordered the multigrain bagel.

The quarrel began when customer refused to answer the original question, “Do you want butter or cheese.” But it erupted when the barista said that she wouldn’t take the order unless the teacher indicated whether she wanted “butter, cheese or neither”—a normal kind of question in food service.

My theory is that the English professor, predisposed for a conflict, inferred the barista’s original inquiry as a restricted choice limited by some Starbucks policy she was prepared to fight against with proper grammar.

Doesn’t everything come down to effective communication?

I investigated by recreating the scene at a Starbucks closer to me in the Financial District. After requesting the last bagel under the glass, the barista kindly asked, “Do you want butter or cheese?” I responded, “No, thanks,” gave him a dollar, and he put it in a bag.

His syntax was clear, and we communicated concisely and effectively. Simple courtesy and manners are often more effective than proper linguistics. Surprisingly, the barista wasn’t even aware of the incident at the other Starbucks.

The 48-page annual report, final proofs of which I was about to approve, fell into the latter category. Having just discovered the demise of his company, the sales consultant was on his way to bring my design files and proof to another printer when he gave me the bad news.

Although we’ve never met in person, I’ve worked closely with this sales rep for seven years with two different companies. When the first printer closed its doors, I followed him to the next one. And I’ll do it again because maintaining a strong bond with a rep is so much more important than the relationship with the whole company. A good representative will always step to bat for you—an invaluable quality, especially when your project has already passed its deadlines. Ours had.

So the good news is that the annual report will still hit the streets this month. But it’s poignant to see another print business go down. The economic climate has vendors in this industry struggling to keep their doors open. Over the past several months, I’ve received more direct mail, cold calls and introductory emails from commercial printers seeking new business than any other time during my eight years at this nonprofit.

These pitches are arriving from all over the country. A sales rep from a commercial printer in Fort Worth, Texas, said that her company had lost many of its major corporate clients, who at one time had big budgets and consistent purchase orders. So the printer concentrated its marketing on nonprofits.

But we’ve had to tighten our belts, too. The production manager of our local print vendor has always given me a sincere “thank you” with every order we submit. Lately, it sounds a bit more effusive.

Iron Maiden's branding didn't drive Eddie mad.

Heading uptown from Wall Street on the 2 Train after work earlier this month, I spotted a man wearing an Iron Maiden T-shirt. It had been years since I saw someone proudly sporting this cotton badge of honor to represent the veteran British heavy metal band. The black shirt, pointy red logo and Eddie—the grisly zombie mascot—stood out wonderfully among the suits and ties coming from the Financial District.

While not a big fan of the group, I’d always been intrigued by the ghoulish imagery and impressed by the iconography of the logo.

The man stepped off of the subway ahead of me at Penn Station, where the frequency of different Iron Maiden shirts drastically increased as I got closer to the Long Island Railroad tracks.

Iron Maiden was scheduled to play that night right above at Madison Square Garden. And the troopers gathered below.

Members of the T-shirt-wearing cadres modeled different interpretations of Eddie from different album covers—15 studio, nine live and five compilations—throughout the band’s 35-year career. The mascot has been a lobotomy recipient, a puppeteer, a pharaoh, a futuristic assassin and, on Maiden’s latest release, a galactic traveler. One young fan even wore an Eddie mask. I’m not sure what phase he depicted, but he looked a little too gruesome to ask.

But the logo has remained pretty much unchanged. Through many lineup changes, sound evolutions and different versions of Eddie, it’s the one constant element of the Iron Maiden experience—well, besides founder and bassist Steve Harris.

Businesses in a variety of industries can learn a few lessons from these successful old metal heads. Inside the confines of your company, it’s really easy to get sick of your logo, color schemes and slogan; you see it everyday, all day—complete saturation. But the moment you become bored with your materials, someone in the outside world is exposed to your brand for the first time.

What would’ve happened if Iron Maiden decided to change their visual brand on a whim because they were just over it?

New look, same heavy sound.