The Long Way Around

Nineteen years, one line, and a detour through a forest fire.

Tom Lucido

New York · 2007–2017

Reading the crowd.

I started in New York selling and planning digital media for people who made things: a theatre company, a hockey arena, a Spider-Man musical that kept injuring its cast.

A small trophy on a shelf, its wooden disc engraved: For distinguished achievement on Broadway. Spider-Man, Turn Off the Dark. June 10, 2012.
Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark · June 10, 2012

Then five years in analytics, which is a generous word for what it was: reading what enormous groups of people did, and trying to notice the thing they were doing before anyone said it out loud.

That turned out to be the whole job. I just didn’t know it yet.

Panorama from the Brooklyn waterfront: the Manhattan Bridge overhead, the Brooklyn Bridge and lower Manhattan beyond it.

InVision · 2018–2020

The expert reader.

At InVision I wrote for designers and engineers, on a blog with 4,000,000 subscribers. It was the first time I was writing for people who knew more than I did about the thing I was writing about.

It’s a very specific kind of terror and I recommend it.

A small black dog in a red fleece and grey leg warmers, giving the camera a worried look.
A large square canvas ruled into a grid, some cells filled with ink patterns, arrows, collage scraps and a tiny skyline, most left empty.
Analog Arrivals · made by hand, off the clock

Work & Co · 2020–2022

The story inside the build.

At Work & Co I ran editorial for an agency building things for IKEA, the Met Opera, Givenchy. Site copy, award entries, press pitches: whatever got the work seen. The company roughly doubled while I was there.

A Fast Company spread from October 2021, Transportation by Design, with subway-map lines running across black pages. First entry: the MTA Live Subway Map, by Work & Co.
Fast Company, October 2021 · Work & Co’s live subway map

The job was to sit with the engineers who built the thing and work out which part of it was the story. It was almost never the part anyone expected.

A hand-drawn line animation of a roller skater in a cap and sunglasses, spinning in place.

The Turn · late 2022

And then I’d been looking at a screen for fifteen years, and the pandemic had made it feel like twenty.

I was thirty-seven, running a lot, and I wanted a job outside that would use it.

So I quit and joined the Forest Service.

Oregon · 2023–2024

Watch the ridgeline.

Willamette National Forest, on the McKenzie River. Six dollars a night for a bunk, and two bathrooms between six of us.

Two of us in yellow shirts and hard hats, grinning in smoky timber. My helmet says LUCIDO.

On days with no active fire but high risk, we drove to high points and sat there. That was the assignment. Watch the ridgeline. Wait for something that doesn’t look like anything yet.

The rest of the time I was a swamper on a saw team. The sawyer cuts, and the swamper hauls off what falls. It’s heavy, repetitive, close work beside a running saw, and all of it runs on signals.

On my first real fire, the smoke didn’t look like anything.

A firefighter with a hand tool walking past a burning juniper, flames running along the ground behind him.

Small hotspots kept jumping the line. We hiked up and down all day. Some hoses burned over and we lost water. By evening our escape route was gone, and we spent the night in the black, eating MREs, waiting for the fire to pass us.

Dusk in tall timber: a crew member working a line of low flame, the whole slope behind glowing.

Everyone could see the smoke. The signal was there in the morning and the decision came in the afternoon, and the gap between those two things is the entire story.

An ink drawing of overlapping circles, each holding a small world: a city skyline, a mountain range with a flag on the summit, a clock, flowers, a beach with a palm tree, a fan of arrows. Touches of pale blue, pink and yellow.
Analog Arrivals

The Return · 2024

What I came back with.

I came back to marketing. Not because I missed screens.

Hand-drawn map: the McKenzie River to Detroit A dotted orange line arcs across the country from McKenzie Bridge, Oregon, below the Cascades, to Detroit, between the lakes. About 1,960 miles as the crow flies. McKENZIE BRIDGE DETROIT ABOUT 1,960 MILES AS THE CROW FLIES CASCADES N
The McKenzie River to Detroit · 2024

Because I’d worked out what I’m good at, which is noticing the thing early and then getting someone to care about it.

A black dog with a white chest sitting on a wood floor, mouth wide open in a grin, one paw in my hand.

And because there were people in Michigan I wanted to be around more than I wanted to be on a mountain.

A hand-made poster for an art show on November 14, 2024: a stencilled figure leaping with an umbrella over blue and acid green, lettered on strips of masking tape. All are welcome.
Analog Arrivals

CloudFactory · 2024–2026

The boring, expensive problem.

Now I write about production AI for the people who build it. Four white papers, each built from interviews with engineers who knew the subject far better than I did, each written to survive their review. 44 posts in nine months, on a calendar that didn’t slip.

The one I’d show you first: an hour with the CIO of a $1.3 billion transit operator, asking him why his drivers kept quitting. Nobody had written about driver retention because driver retention is boring. It was also the most expensive problem he had, and the answer was sitting in operational data nobody was reading. Turnover improved about fifty percent year over year.

And the one I’d show you second, because it says more: I inherited a campaign with a beautiful dashboard. Every week the line went up and to the right. I went looking for the meetings it had booked.

Zero meetings booked.

I killed it and rebuilt it as outbound, where a real person talks to a real person. Then I started on the thing that should have been under that dashboard all along.

What I’m building now.

It’s the high-point job again: watch everything, wait for the thing that doesn’t look like anything yet. Except this time I’m building the lookout.

It runs on AI. Agents do the capture: the data, the signals, the first read on what changed overnight, waiting for a person in the morning. Capture is automatic. Decisions are exclusively human.

Panorama of a desk: a laptop, two monitors, one showing a calendar packed with blocks, a tablet showing world time zones, a mug, a notebook and pen.
The high point, these days

I liked it enough to build one for the rest of my life. It’s called LUCID, and it watches the calendar, the inbox and the half-finished ideas the same way: it notices, and I decide. There’s more about it in Projects.

A wall of small hand-made cards on deckled paper: ink spirals, watercolour collage, a heart crossed by a heartbeat line, no two alike.
Analog Arrivals · no two alike

The pattern · now

Same job, different weather.

Lay the line out flat and every stretch of it looks the same up close.

In New York it was a crowd about to do something. At InVision and Work & Co it was the part of the build nobody thought was the story. On the ridgeline it was smoke in the morning and a decision in the afternoon. At CloudFactory it was a dashboard that looked great and booked nothing.

Each time, the work came down to the same three things.

One

Notice the signal before it looks like anything.

A number drifting. A question nobody has asked on the record. A thin grey line over a ridge.

Two

Get people to care about it.

That’s the writing part. Usually it starts with the person who knows more than I do, and a better question than they expected.

Three

Do it before it gets expensive.

Every problem on this page was small once. The drivers, the dashboard, the hillside.

It looks like a detour.It’s the same job.

Tom Lucido

thomaslucido.com