I have a friend who calls this time of year The Forced March to Happiness. This couldn’t be a more accurate description. With every passing year, I find myself dreading December. It’s expensive, guilt-ridden, stressful, and full of expectations. My best intentions always seem to be too much…. or not enough. My awkwardness comes into full bloom this time of year.
It wasn’t always like this. This photo of my grandmother at the farm instantly takes me back to everything wonderful about Christmas time. Where I was the beneficiary of all the good things this time of year is supposed to offer.
Christmas at the farm was warm and safe. Usually, my abusive father was on his best behavior. My grandad would cut a scraggly, sticky, little cedar tree that filled the house with a marvelous aroma which made up for the pain of trying to decorate the forbidding branches. There was always a homemade feast straight from the garden, and a lot of fuss in a crowded kitchen to get it all on the table. Everyone took their tasks seriously, from filling the water glasses to getting that jello mold on the table. There was always a prayer that my grandfather would say and when it came from him, I believed it.
The food. Never again will I taste a thick, homemade egg noodle smothered in beefy goodness like Nellie Lee would make. Or the freshly baked bread. Real mashed potatoes with a lump here and there. Ham and beef. Relish trays with sad little carrots. Green beans with bacon. A lettuce salad. And… so much PIE.
Gifts were wrapped in crinkly paper with bows saved from past years giving. Many were handmade creations made of yarn or fabric. A big deal was made over every item, assuring the giver it was absolutely the finest thing they ever received. And it was.
My survival techniques this time of year include good books, binge watching PBS or Netflix, a bottle of good Pinot, longer time in the gym, and sleep. If you’re lucky enough to find some joy in this time of year, then revel in it. Just be patient with those of us who are hanging on till January, hoping to not get trampled in the Forced March to Happiness.
I’ve earned my living writing advertising copy… words to motivate, educate, inspire. To bring warm bodies and their wallets through a door and make a client some money.
I was-and still am- good at that.
You don’t have to work on Madison Avenue to produce warm bodies and wallets. I did it in a regional Midwestern market for over 32 years. But it was never easy. I stirred and stirred my word soup until it was as perfect as I could make it. I realized my mentor was right when she used to tell me “Don’t take for granted what you know and do well.” When I read what someone else eventually wrote for those clients, I realized I was a lot better than I gave myself credit for.
They say to be a better writer, you need to read a lot. And I do.
The major daily newspapers (until I can’t stomach the sadness.)
I’m also a student of my industry. Great advertising is inspiring. A Sharpie has always been my preferred writing instrument, so this resonated with me:
Why the hell they ever ditched that campaign is still a mystery to me.
And then sentences like these…
From Jason Gay in the Wall Street Journal on Tom Brady’s retirement (I despise Tom Brady):
“Did you expect him to retreat from public life, to grow a long, flowing beard and become a recluse who writes unpublished books about trains, and is occasionally photographed midday outside a decaying mansion in a silk TB12 bathrobe, eating almonds and talking to squirrels?”
Or from Tim Hayward in The Financial Times, reviewing chef Theo Randall’s restaurant:
Noting that a serving of a sort of Fontina cheese soufflé was 590 calories, he wrote, “If it had been 10 times that I’d have eaten half, paused to call for a defibrillator and gone back in with a song on my lips.”
Defibrillator. That must have been some damned fine cheese.
Anyway, thinking about writing is easy. Doing it with any degree of worth is not.
So I keep stirring the word soup and hope I get something write.
It’s the time of year when the media share their obligatory “Year in Review” crap. You’ve seen it… the Top 10 Best Movies, the 20 Best Books, blah, blah, blah.
Should we review our lives over the last twelve months?
When I take a serious look at my life in 2021, I feel the urge to mix another Manhattan.
It was the year I learned things I never wanted to know.
The year that tested my resolve.
The year when I discovered what I’m really made of.
It began with a forced reckoning of my partners death sentence of Stage 4 colon cancer. The ensuing whirl of doctors, nurses, paperwork, surgeries, insurance, home care, appointments, medications, COVID, weeks in the hospital, keeping my cool, managing hospice, the legal crap, the funeral home, the ex-wife, his sons… and my denial of the inevitable.
The trip back home to the Midwest allowed me to soak in the nurturing and understanding of my closest friends and my daughter… to get some perspective, to answer the question of “now what”?
I spent the summer finding a new apartment and moving from the space I shared with the only man who ever really loved me. (I called it “the next chapter”. That makes me want to vomit.)
I jumped into the soul crushing, disappointing, exhausting, redundant experience of online dating. Oh my God. What was I thinking?
Let’s look at my past year?
How ‘bout let’s don’t.
I choose to learn from the literal hell 2021 was for me… if you don’t learn from your experiences, you’ll rot. I plan on getting up and showing up. I’m going to learn to play that damned guitar. I will audition for voice work regularly. I’m going to take those road trips we had planned before cancer got behind the wheel. I will not wallow. None of us have the luxury of doing that.
I’m convinced people become addicted to the search for online love. Swipe left and your serotonin level jumps. It becomes a rush you start to look forward to. You don’t want it to end. Dating companies want know this. If they can keep us hooked on the rush of the search, imagining the grass will be greener with the next swipe, the more money they make. They’re selling a dream. And we’re buying it.
One man asked me: What do you want from these dating sites? Helluva question… and one I hadn’t thought much about. Perhaps if we single souls could find our answer and kindly ask the same, we could cut down on the time, energy, and eventual heartbreak we feel when it never went further than we hoped.
“One day you’re in heaven darlin’, the next you feel like hell”.
Mary Chapin Carpenter’s lyric perfectly describes the emotional chaos of online dating. It’s exhausting and frustrating, an experience that can leave you empty and feeling more alone than when you started.
I’ve been away for years! LITERALLY. Life happened. My ex decided he didnt like living in the country – or me – very much, so I changed my life. In a BIG way. I packed up and moved to Philadelphia where, in spite of great personal loss, I am thriving. The following is a recent article I’ve written about on-line dating. If you’ve subjected yourself to this process, perhaps you can relate! 🤦♀️
After a lifetime of losing at love, I finally ended up with Tim… the man who changed everything. The only way to find out if it was real was to move halfway across the country to the East Coast, where he was facing the end of his own marriage.
We settled into an unconditional love that I never thought possible. I was finally blissfully happy.
Two years later, he died.
I slogged through the motions of grief. I moved out of the apartment we shared, determined to give myself a new start in my new city. I cursed his photos. I kept his cell phone charged as if he might call. I wore his T Shirts. I couldn’t see any way out of the empty life where I now found myself.
Enter Jaclyn and a bottle of wine.
After several months of steady tears and lethargic loneliness, my sweet, smart friend decided I should put myself on a dating site. “You can’t live like this forever, she said. You need to meet new people. Tim would want you to be happy.” As she poured another glass of liquid courage, we created my profile, chose some pictures, and I waited for the boys to come calling.
And did they ever.
My real age is 65. But I think I’m forty and look like I’m maybe 50.
This is a problem.
Men my age, more often than not, are typically overweight, stodgy, and angry. Some were widowed, like me. Some divorced. Some never married at all. I found myself in a sea of personalities and had to sift through them, most being 70+ geriatrics who likely think fine dining is Cracker Barrel.
First up was Mr. Delaware. He was a boyish 58 and I fell hard. I’m a sucker for a man who can make me laugh. After a witty banter back and forth via text and telephone, I impulsively packed a bag and drove two hours to meet a man who, for all I know, could have been an ax murderer. Something told me this would be safe, and it was… but it WAS disappointing. Mr. Delaware had more issues than a magazine rack. He had told me early on I was the female version of him. Uh… not even close.
Next came Mr. Baltimore. He had boyish dimples, said he graduated from culinary school, was a bit shy, and asked me if I liked crab cakes. Duh. I drove two hours to see him, expecting to see him in his kitchen, whipping up a romantic dinner. Instead, he took me to a chain restaurant for rubbery scallops and barely spoke. It was like sitting across the table from a blank sheet of paper. Turns out Mr. Baltimore HAD been a chef but ended up selling Toyotas. He had that pudgy stance and rummy-eyed glaze so many car salespeople have. Obviously lonely, he was also angry. He told me he hated people. What? I chalked him up to research.
I regrouped. I realized I was too gullible and needed to vet these people. Like the way too pretty guy who said he was working on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. He put on a full court press. My best friend said, “Dr. Phil did a whole episode on these oil rig guys! He’s a con artist! GET RID OF HIM.“ I did. Then I discovered he had popped up again under a new name with different pictures. I turned his ass in. Jeff or Benjamin or whoever you are, I hope you rot. (And no, I didn’t send him any money.)
The one who had that bad boy look… resembling Eddie Van Halen. He wanted to converse off the site and use Whats App. I gave him several options to meet up and he dodged them. Red flag, said my friend. So, I blocked “Roger” or whatever his name was. In reality, he was probably “Roberta”, sipping tea under a shade tree in Mexico, playing with peoples lives.
The sexy, slightly geeky guy with the same name as my deceased sweetheart. He was 51 and lived only 10 miles away. He texted me on the regular. I suggested we meet up… have a coffee, or a beer and a burger. He never took the hint and instead sent me selfies and pictures of the new shoes he bought. What???
One nice looking man called me, told me he was from Sweden, then started singing to me and sent me kissing emojis. He said had to go and would call me right back. He never did.
Thank God.
The sheer entertainment value in looking for online love has been worth the price of the subscriptions. On some sites, they don’t use their real name. I’ve met: TallCool1, Tater, HereWeGo, SwingGuy (really?), NormalNotBoring, ARichTycoon, and JustAnotherGuy. The best one? OMGIPAIDFORTHIS. I with ya, man. I paid for this?
I have seen potential suitors dressed in tuxedos and pajamas. Other pose shirtless in their beds, looking dreamily up at their camera. Some thought it appropriate to dress in costume. I’ve seen Indian chiefs, aging rockers with their guitars, knights in armor, men with dogs, men proudly holding fish, men trying to look bad ass on their Harleys. It’s as if they are trying to attract other men.
The expressions are priceless. Some men smile nervously, some offer that startled, ‘deer-in-the- headlights’ look. Some men try to look like a badass when in reality they probably beat their wives. Other clueless guys take selfies in front of their mirror with their unmade bed or open toilets as photo bombers. Clearly, these are men who have no idea what women want. Or at least THIS woman.
I might start a side hustle offering to improve men’s profiles. I’d write their stories using original content, correct spelling, and the oxford comma. I’d take new photos that are lit properly and in focus. I’d offer suggestions for attire and hair and beard care. But at the end of the day, they’d still be… them.
I will continue to search for the male version of me, but in the world of online love, you have to be patient, find the humor in humanity, and manage your expectations. Or else you’ll end up eating meat loaf in a Cracker Barrel with some guy named Earl.
(And before I go any further, please know I am not disparaging anyone who does.)
My mother worked two jobs to get me through the one year I managed to accomplish. There simply wasn’t the money. And I really couldn’t understand why she needed to sacrifice so much for me to learn about the history of China 300, AD.
So I started gathering experience. To pay the rent, I was waiting tables and tending bar when a customer told me I’d be good at selling. She offered me a job at her radio station selling advertising. I never looked back.
After selling airtime, I started a little ad agency in the spare room of my house. In those 32 + years, we grew to a staff of 12. Armed with no degree, I signed up clients, developed their marketing plans, wrote the copy, planned media, art directed, produced video, did some on-air and on-camera work, managed staff, and learned how to read a P&L. I made more mistakes than I can count, and learned valuable lessons from every one of them.
The great Bob Hoffman said in his book, Marketers are from Mars, Consumers are From New Jersey, “ If you’re in advertising, you’re a salesman. It doesn’t matter what you think you are or what you want to be. You’re a salesman.”
I’m a good salesperson. No college degree is a substitute for experience, work ethic, passion, and common sense.
So when you have an advertising position to fill, stop looking for a piece of paper. Start looking for a salesperson.
The way we talk to each other has changed. Social media allows us to spout personal opinion and insults behind a screen without the face-to-face consequences of an often bombastic, haughty, and condescending tone.
This communication style has crept into some of our workplaces. Mutual respect, a collaborative atmosphere, and basic human decency have been pushed aside by towering egos who have fed themselves a steady diet of business books and data driven drivel (apologies to my IT friends) that in the end do nothing to produce innovative work and improve a customer experience that results in sales.
It’s unproductive, unhealthy, unhappy, and unprofitable.
Nothing kills creativity and motivation like being schooled by someone who has never done what you do. In my experience with creative people, (and in any industry), creatives need a positive atmosphere where ideas are encouraged and there is a clearly stated objective. When the goal is constantly changing, it becomes a game of whack-a-mole. Time and resources are expended. Nobody wins. Frustration ensues. Enthusiasm evaporates.
When your marketing department is chasing after an ever-changing target, how can any of them feel success? When the workplace is filled with passive-aggressive “joking”, back stabbing commentary about other staff members, and rumblings about the petulant nature of the boss, these are all clear signs not enough books have been read.
Will the beatings will continue until morale improves? Or will the agency down the street be able to offer the kind of management required to get the very best from their talent, realize success for their client, and everyone has fun in the process?
Any business owner/manager who says they want to improve their customer experience needs to start by improving the employee experience.
“Yes, I’ll have a TV spot, some VCM, 2 schedules of radio, a direct mail piece … oh, and refresh my web site with some new SEO.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll be right back.”
If an ad agency were a restaurant, it might go something like that.
But it’s not.
Forgive the restaurant metaphor, but it seems so appropriate. Clients shouldn’t be selecting from a menu, yet there are still agencies that attempt to sell “today’s special”. Isn’t every advertising problem unique? Shouldn’t it be cooked to order?
While I have been in small market advertising all my life, surely the philosophy is the same no matter if you’re in a diner or a white tablecloth establishment. Clients need to trust that you are preparing exactly what they need. They should feel your passion, concern, interest, and enthusiasm. They deserve lavish communication and want direction!
Clients – and customers – are gold. They come first. Always. It should be the underlying philosophy that drives every agency action.
And everyone in the agency needs to understand that. Before any programming, coding, writing, shooting, editing, or media placement begins, every creative person who touches the project needs to know the goal of the client. And, just because we have a special on lamb chops doesn’t mean we should serve them to everyone. If you’re trying to sell the thing that will be the most profitable for your agency, then you’re doing it wrong.
Finally, everyone likes to dabble in the kitchen, but there can be only one chef. That’s the Creative Director, who is responsible for serving up a final course that translates into client success. Even if it’s something that is not on the menu.
These words were emphatically spoken to a loud, mouthy, young radio salesgirl by her much wiser manager.
The mouthy sales girl was me. The manager was reminding me that she had more experience and I needed to listen. That woman has been my mentor ever since.
She found me tending bar and offered me a job in radio sales. I initially turned her down, but thankfully, she persisted. Six months later I was selling airtime and my career began. Her blunt observations, guidance, and belief in the abilities that I couldn’t see in myself made all the difference in my professional life.
No matter if you’re fresh out of school or you’ve been working for years, find someone with more experience, with a different perspective and a different approach, to be your mentor. This person doesn’t even have to be in your chosen field. They need to be someone you admire and can cultivate a relationship with.
Take them to coffee or lunch. Ask them for their insight. What did they do in their career that worked for them? What were their failures? Believe me, everyone wants to share what they know. They’ll be flattered as hell you asked and you’ll learn far more than you would have ever learned in a classroom or a book.
After selling radio, I went out on my own, started a little ad agency and spent 32 plus years doing what I loved. Through it all, my mentor has never been out of reach and I owe her more than I can ever repay. I’m still loud and mouthy, but at least I know I’m not the smartest person in the room … and my life is richer for it.
It’s an attitude that’s everywhere … and one that needs to stop. Especially in the advertising business.
Big Desk.
You know these people and you’ve seen it in their body language. You’ve heard it in their tone of voice. A “Big Desk” attitude is showing up to the meeting with that “I’m here because I know everything you need to be successful and I’m gracing you with my presence because I’m so busy and important but I’ll make a little time to try and help you.”
I remember the ad girl who was chastised BY THE CLIENT for endlessly checking her phone instead of listening in their meeting.
The young ad novice who leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, looked up at the ceiling and said, “Well, Mr. Smith, we’re here to help you.”
Then there’s the client who used to work for our agency. We were calling on him. In his sharply pressed new suit, he sat down behind his desk in dramatic fashion, brought his hands together and said in a steely tone, “What do you think you can do for my company?” As his former boss, if I could have fired him right then and there, I would have. (By the way, he didn’t last long in that job.)
Whether you’re buying or selling, arrogance isn’t a good quality and there’s a lot of it in the ad world. Advertising is not a “one and done” business. Relationships are vital because trust is everything. Trust solidifies your business. Trust takes time to build. In my 32+ years of small market ad work, I built my business by spending time with my clients and learned what kind of people they were. I tried to anticipate what they needed and give them solutions to the problems they faced. And most importantly, I did it sincerely because I gave a damn. In the process, many of them became close friends. Even better.
A real winner in the ad business doesn’t come across as a used car salesman. Being sincere, genuine and vested doesn’t cost a thing. Take that extra step to make your relationship extraordinary, even if it means losing a buck or two.
During my time as a media sales rep for a small town radio station, (my first real job) my manager got a call from the owner of a Mexican fast food chain. He demanded I be replaced with someone else.
Why?
“Because she’s bossy and has an answer for everything”, he said. My manager replied. “I understand. I’ll get you a new rep. But I need to ask you, if she doesn’t have an answer to all your questions, who will?”
She had my back for several reasons. A) I had the client spending a ton of money on our radio station B) I was one of the top sales people at the station C) I genuinely wanted clients get to results D) The client was right. I was bossy. I still am.
In over 35 years of advertising and sales experience, this guy was the only one (at least that I know of) that ever complained about my approach. Others have described me as “nice-bossy”. I have always pushed for my ideas but in the end, the client gets to do what they want.
You get to be “bossy” when A) You demonstrate that you genuinely give a damn B) You have formed a real relationship with the client that has established trust C) You know EXACTLY what you’re talking about and can back up your claims with facts that give you the ability to have the answer “for everything”.
And what if you get asked something you don’t have an answer for? You say: I don’t have that answer right now, but I will find out and get back to you.
No matter how big the client is, they need and want direction and leadership. They don’t want another order taker. You’re getting paid to deliver results and ideas. If you can’t demonstrate real enthusiasm for a client’s success, even if it comes down to being a bit bossy (in a nice way), then you need to find another way to earn a living. Like working the cash register at the Mexican restaurant.
I started my agency before I was 30 years old with no college degree, no real experience other than selling radio time, and a passion for writing. I wanted to exercise my creative muscle, produce commercials, work with clients to make their business better. All lovely notions.
People typically go into business for themselves with their one skill. But they lack the other critical traits it takes to avoid heartache and failure. For example, I had no idea how to read a balance sheet or a profit and loss statement … I figured I had an accountant for that.
I had zero management skills. My old boss used to tell me, “Managing creative people is the hardest thing you will ever do.” How right she was! Your employees are working for completely different reason than you. It’s not a family. It’s a business. I thought if you cared for employees like family members, nurture them and provide what they needed to be successful and do good work, we would all live happily ever after.
Wrong.
My codependent approach to managing staff was my undoing in the end. My naïve, yet well-intentioned method in handling people ended up in several misunderstandings and broken relationships. I trusted too much and trusted the wrong people, leaving my faith in humanity shattered.
After 32 years as an agency owner, I sold the company almost three years ago. I started in a spare room and ended up with Emmy nominations, Telly awards and other recognitions. I made a living, was responsible for livelihoods of 7 other people, and worked with an incredibly diverse roster of clients. Most of the creative now is “cut and paste”, which saddens me, and much of my work is still out there, which is a compliment to my talent and passion that started it all.
Business ownership is not for soft-hearted, pie-in the-sky thinkers. It takes structure, discipline and the ability to “know what you don’t know”.
I took a little hiatus from the blog. Since I sold my little agency almost three years ago, I moved to the family farm, where my nearest neighbor is a mile away and I learned poison ivy is a real scourge. I missed advertising, though, and my outlet here, where I’ve met some interesting people over the years.
Several months ago, the new owners of my agency asked me to come back and help out a little. THAT has been an interesting experience, with some moments I’ll share in the coming weeks.
In the meantime, let’s get a new conversation started, one-sided as it may be in the beginning. AdChick is BACK in the nest!
It’s an I. T. world we’re living in. Face it, I. T. people control how we communicate, shop, be entertained, learn. So do what your I.T. person tells you to do. Don’t try to understand it. Just do it. My I.T. Guru tells me to move this blog to a new place. I’m doing it. He’s a helluva lot smarter than me.
So now, if you will, please click HERE. And Voila. You will be whisked to www.someadchick.com
Bookmark The Chick. Please visit regularly and comment often. I need contact with the outside advertising world.
Adchick is moving to a new site soon, so in the meantime, take good notes on The Art of Meeting Men. Yes, a good conversation starter might indeed be a “small stuffed animal”. “Oh, pardon me, but I couldn’t help noticing…Is that a Tickle Me Elmo you have there?” Also, I love the set. It’s so…eighties. Hilarious.
In 1915, my Grandmother Nellie Lee was born. This past weekend we celebrated her 95th birthday with a little shopping and too much to eat. Many say it’s amazing how, “at her age”, she is so sharp. And it’s true. She met my Grandfather, Paul, when she went to work for his parents at their farm. She was only 16 years old. They fell in love. Nellie Lee had twin daughters (born on the farm in the house where they lived their entire lives) when she was 20 and she and Paul were married over 50 years. She’s always been a farmers wife. She knows how to get fifty cents out of a quarter.
A life long Democrat, she’s quite sure that Obama could get things done if he didn’t have to deal with all those “other” people. When she found out her daughter was a Republican, she said, “Well, she wasn’t raised to be that way.” (Doncha love that?) Nellie Lee is witty, honest and observant and will strike up a conversation with any one at any time, putting everyone instantly at ease. Doing the right thing is what she’s all about. We could all take a lesson.
My cynical spot was more than satisfied with this parody on Googles Superbowl commercial. Sarah’s quest for fame and riches continues to inspire! Thanks to Prostituted Thoughts for this little gem. I loved it.
I do a bit of voice work via an on-line talent web site. They send an invitation to audition to hundreds of us who “fit” the profile. But exactly how do I fit this job description?
The Flatulence Awareness Respect and Trust Society.
One of the copy lines was: Fourteen farts a day keeps the gastroenterologist away!
Yes, it was for a humorous project, but it’s not going on my demo reel.
If it isn’t obvious, I am a Mac. (My sweetheart is a PC….why we’re still together is another story.) Many cynical pot shots are taken at “God-Jobs”, Apple, and their success. I have many collegues who sniff in a haughty fashion about my love of all things Apple. The Mac/PC commercials with Justin and John are outstanding in their simple, witty approach while defining our personalities (unfairly at times). It was only a matter of time before this series came out. We’re all so cynical!
We just finished the design and installation of a time line for a Franciscan University. Highlights from their past 150 years now grace both sides of their main entry. They were thrilled and we’re very proud of it. The content was proofed by me, the PR director, his staff, the university President, two friars, and a host of others. Still, TWO misspelled words made it through. Lucky for us, our printer worked magic and the corrections are invisible. Stuff like this makes me crazy. Taking the time to write and speak properly is what separates us from, well, THEM. So I added the Sentence Sleuth to my blogroll (thanks to Jakes Take for the tip) and had to share this. Funny how a little comma can make all the difference.
Allow me a moment to rant about media. Especially here in Hooterville. Small town media, just like Fox and CNN, can pick and choose and decide the tone. It really pisses me off. So it goes with our slowly dissipating newspaper, The Daily Disappointment, who highlight their owners favorite causes and politics and give credit where none is due. Like the non-story about the newly hired marketing woman with thick ankles, bad hair and sensible shoes who declared an increase in numbers for a government agency with her strategic television efforts. EXCUSE ME? We had them using television two years before she ever showed up. Along with a new web site, and a new positioning statement, and a new event catalog. Bottom line is she had nothing to do with it. So much for investigative, or relevant, journalism. (Maybe it’s because we buy very little local newspaper advertising.)
In Hooterville, there’s a LOT of mediocre media. The little community web sites that crop up under the guise of local news. They try to compete with the newspaper, TV and radio stations. Funded by small thinking Tea Partiers who are busy being righteous, God and Country conservatives, taking low level pot shots at the Mayor, county and state government.
There are VERY bad and WAY TOO MANY radio stations. Announcers with speech impediments. Dead air. Many are owned/funded by small thinking Tea Partiers who are busy being righteous, God and Country conservatives, taking low level pot shots at the Mayor, county and state government.
We have an active cable sales force and two aggressive networks (CBS and NBC) in Hooterville, with News Anchors who everyone knows too much about. The Old Drunk Guy at 6 o’clock. The young bimbo girls with coiffed curls and glossy lips who nod and gush knowingly and have nothing meaningful to say. And smug, self-assured, pushy gals selling 30 second spots when they should buy a gym membership. Every one is Number One.
And last but not least, there are Billboards, Yellow Pages, Area Wide Maps, Church Bulletins, Grocery Store Kiosks, Pharmacy Bags, Sides of Trash Cans Sponsored by the Rotary, Bus Benches, Sides of City Buses, Space on the Chamber Web Site, Flyers in the Chamber Newsletter, ads in the Charity Event Program, the Community Theater Program, the High School Sports Program, on the fence at Little League/High School/College Ball Field, the weekly farm town newspapers, ads on placemats at the local pizza/taco/fried chicken place, the side of a Race car….you get the idea.
Not one news outlet here can afford to deliver any unbiased delivery of factual information because they might piss off their friend/neighbor/customer. Because it’s a small town and they all play golf at the same country club. Gee, Happy Monday.
My sweetheart had a serious car accident. In a second, priorities shifted. But now that he’s better, reality has shown its large ass and I’m reminded what the entrepreneurial experience is all about. After 27 years on my own, why am I still surprised how intense a day can be? It’s like the bus pulled up and everyone got off at the same stop. Clients need copy changes. Media needs to be planned. Staff need a paycheck. In order to give them one, bills must go out. And surely, there’s a Yellow Pages Sales Rep who needs to be cursed.
In a small agency, you don’t have time to bask in gossip, awards, or winning new business. You learn to spin plates, buy time, reason quickly, stash snacks in your desk, keep beer in the fridge, teach clients to work on your time table, not theirs, and do it all with a certain amount of grace. That last part I have yet to master.
Today, I made a dent in the pile, engaged a potentially awesome new client, and planned tomorrow. I left my desk after 12 1/2 hours, numb and brain dead, but thankful that tomorrow I won’t have to answer to some ego crazed Art Director, put up with some annoying intern (no, not YOU Mags!) or a too-familiar office girl. It’s my nest and along with the stress comes the right to surround yourself with cool people who love makin’ the work. No Assholes Allowed. It’s good to be back!
It was a great ski trip. Then, on his way back to the city to face the reality of work, my sweetheart hit a patch of black ice yesterday morning, and rolled the car on a major highway. Like all stubborn men, he tried to refuse treatment. They talked him into the ambulance, took him to a VERY rural band-aid station where I found him shaking like a leaf. Fractured rib. Car is totaled. The living room has turned into a mini-hospital, the dining room my office. Very crabby man…but very lucky. He was wearing a seat belt. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be here to be crabby. We’ll be right back after another Vicodin.
I admire good writing so much. Lily in Minneapolis sent this to the Star Tribune. She nailed it.
Dear Pat Robertson,
I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I’m all over that action. But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating.
I may be evil incarnate, but I’m no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth — glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven’t you seen “Crossroads”? Or “Damn Yankees”? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there’d be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox — that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it — I’m just saying: Not how I roll.
You’re doing great work, Pat, and I don’t want to clip your wings — just, come on, you’re making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That’s working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
…I watched a 60+ clients eyes glaze over as I showed him TweetDeck and explained Twitter.
…I was polite to a guy named Brad from India who called about Internet Advertising.
…I did not feel sorry for telling a deadbeat client that if he can do his own web updates, then by all means, please do. But if he wants me to teach him how, there would be a charge.
…I did not toss the postage meter out the window when it said “inspection due”.
…I out-shocked the client who calls me and attempts to shock me with excessive swearing and vulgar, sexual overtones. I actually rather enjoyed it.
…I was patient with the client who, instead of reading what I sent to her BEFORE she called me, she read it to herself while I was on the phone with her.
…I realized I will NEVER be able to write down every thing that’s in my head.
…I counted the minutes until it’s time to load the car and go skiing for a week.
We were a company of 12 at one time, and now we’re down to three, along with a team of brilliant freelancers who are at the ready. This is by my design. But every Monday morning, I look around and wonder …where’d I put that creative, anyway?
Big agencies have big teams to develop big ideas for big clients. But it’s all relative. Our small clients have much at stake: keep the doors open, sell stuff, make payroll, stay in business…just like “big” clients. And, they expect us to deliver a solid message that brings warm bodies through the door. Maybe our role is even more vital since these small companies depend on repeat, long term customers. They battle Super-WalMart and other Big Box Stores daily. Small businesses look for their niche and a way to survive. They look to us to make their message meaningful and effective.
Example: I have a mom and pop furniture store who is open only one night a week, closed on Wednesday and Sunday, (yeah, I said closed Wednesday) and open only 8am-5pm the other days. Yet, in spite of the way they force customers to conform to the way they do business, and with all the Big Box competition they have, they’ re still the ones to beat. I must be a genius.
When you’re as small as we are, time is the valuable commodity. There’s not a lot of time to bounce ideas, experiment a little, write, re-write and re-write again…not a lot of time to savor the process of making the work. While I get bored and frustrated with that one (long-time) client who wants the same “show and tell” TV, it works.
I got into the business over 27 years ago because of the creative process. I love being a real part of video projects, touching the many different aspects of making the work. But the “give and take”, “lets try this and if it doesn’t work lets try something else” days are long gone. In order to survive, we must churn out “new and different” as best we can because even in a small town, clients expect your best effort.
The snow was intense overnight in Hooterville. Had to shovel my way out of the drive only to get to my high rise office overlooking the river and find no email and no elevator. Snow boots on and off, coat, gloves, drive slow, ugh! There’s been no time to think about anything but client stuff. And thankfully, there’s plenty to think about. So while I hate to be such a “cut and paster”, this was too priceless not to pass along. (via Renegade Agency Confessional!)
You can’t tell me that big agencies don’t deal with the same idiocy we deal with here. (We just wipe Pork Rind crumbs off the conference table.)Welcome to Day Three of the New Year at a little agency in the middle of nowhere but at the center of everything.
Email: How’s the web site coming? Well, we haven’t heard from you since mid-November. We need your product information and most importantly, APPROVAL on the revised proposal we sent.
We need to reshoot the open. My wife thinks my shirt makes me look like a porn star. (It doesn’t) but what’s wrong with that?
I know you handle our advertising but we let a company who specializes in web design do our new site. Uh, OK. But they’re using the wrong logo.
We suggested adding a campaign oriented domain name to further drive their message… a natural move. Their marketing director said: Oh, No. We cant change the domain name. I’ve already placed all the yellow pages. What part of this does she not understand?
Acct Rep: They paid one of the invoices but not the other. OK, you’re mailing it to the wrong department. Send it here-we’ve told you this before. Can I fax it? No. Mail it. Can I email it? It would be quicker. No, they want a mailed invoice. Can I call him? NO, BITCH. MAIL THE BILL OR I’LL DRIVE UP AND CUT YOU.
Scratchings here in the Hen House can tell us many things…like the Turkish dude who read my coffee grounds the other night. (Man, was he way off!) The Psychics have predicted all sorts of interesting stuff. Imagine… a secret cloning project and they clone a famous person. Yes, Martha, that really WAS Elvis you saw in that convenience store. Anyway, with over 11 million hits for 2010 Predictions, I’ll offer few of my own.
The client who hoped I could tell him who his customer was will become a greeter at the Super Walmart.
Rush Limbaugh? It was a severe case of vitriol. There is no cure for that.
George Parker stays exactly the same…and for that we are truly grateful.
The Happy Soul Industry will become a hit TV series. The late Bea Arthur will play God (she’s already in Heaven, so why not? Her sense of humor would be ideal). Steffan will retire to the south of France where he will make fine wine under the Curiously Heavenly label.
The Ad Contrarian will become President of the United States, fire everybody and start over.
The guys at Red House Furniture will open a chain of stores across the country, ending racial hatred through the selling of fine leatherette loveseats.
And speaking of furniture, Tim will trade in his Steel Chair for a Lazy Boy.
Jetpacks will get his novel published, make scads of money and go into business with Balloon Boy’s father dabbling in experimental aircraft.
Glenn Beck throws himself under a bus. Finally.
People will learn to spell, use their turn signals, and quit trying to shove their religion down other peoples throat. Hey, I can dream, can’t I?
You big agency guys have it made. You have “people”. Here in Hooterville, the end of every month is chaos, but the end of the year is nerve-wracking. We do our own bitch chores. Aside from the client billing that must go out (or no one gets paid), there’s the mind-numbing data to assemble for the bookkeeper and the accountant so they can determine if we’ve made $5.67 more than we did last year. My eyes glaze over in this endeavor and I struggle to focus.
Then there’s the paperwork from ’09 to file away and keep safe in a bunker somewhere, in case a client might have a question like, “I thought we bought drive time in April last year”. I open notices from the landlord and insurance assholes who explain why they are raising our rates. Decisions need to be made about a new copier and a new video camera (yes, we’re going high def here in Hooterville.) To add to it all, my compulsive nature takes cleaning and purging to a whole new level. Offices are scoured, trips to the dumpster are made, and our office refrigerator is looking pretty nasty. Ditto the toaster oven. (Who put left over pizza in there and forgot about it???)
But, the phone’s been ringing and the January calendar is filling up. The new year looks promising for this small town agency. And for this, we are truly grateful.
I really don’t give a damn about the Tiger Woods fiasco, but, over the holidays, the kids played this for us. Now I can’t get it out of my head. I sing it to myself on the way to work.
164 posts. 13, 844 views. Connections made to people I’ve never met. Some I’d like to meet, some too frightening.
I’ve vented, observed, shared, learned, whined, been humbled, gained experience, found, lost, laughed, gotten confused, cried, gained perspective, cut-and-pasted, contributed, and a helluva lot more. It’s really been for me, but if you been here, then you’ve gotten a peek into a world waaaaaay far away from the Big Agency World. Very different, but in many ways, very much the same. We fight the same client issues, develop work along the same methods, struggle with the same creative blocks, and enjoy the same streaks of inspiration.
In Hooterville, (as I affectionately call it) we know our audience and write and produce to reach them. Not so different, really.
Everyone’s been talking about lists, summarys, the best of the decade, blah, blah. I like this clip, though. It’s kind of disturbing to me that I’ve seen most of these videos…I need to get out more. (via) If This is a Blog then What’s Christmas.
I’m so amazed at people who have lost their senses, left ethical behavior behind and skewed their priorities because organized religion slithered into their being. Somewhere, deep inside the human psyche, we must have this innate desire for a higher power. Fine. But history proves that religion has missed its intended mark, if it had any to begin with. Millions have been murdered, raped, imprisoned because they didn’t believe their oppressors particular God. Organized religion preys on addicted personalities, reaching deep into their bank accounts in return for unseen salvation. The “Bible in the Backseat” crowd swaggers, looking down their noses at the rest of us who are bemused by their arrogance. It’s about power, control and money, not about ethical behavior, honesty, and caring for your fellow human. And now, Jesus is everywhere…from tree bark to toast to TV screens. Check it. (via The Browser. Thanks D)
New favorite quote: “God isn’t the problem…it’s her fan club.”
One definition of cynicism I found was this: Cynicism was an ancient Greek philosophy, primarily concerned with virtue, whose followers were known as “The Dog Philosophers.” They believed that virtue was the only necessity for happiness and that it was wholly sufficient for attaining happiness.
Not exactly the way I would have described it. Today, nothing is sacred and everything is fair game. We’ll make fun of any thing, any one, at any time. With tongue stuck in cheek, we cleverly belittle, dress down, and criticize every chance we get. After awhile, it gets old, creates animosity, ill feelings, causing family’s to squabble and friendships to fray. All this cynicism breeds distrust and soon, nobody likes anybody and we’re all so busy trying to be right, none of us are. Then, the Jesus Folks are so busy dishing out guilt and shame, we forget about common decency. Can’t we all just get along?
But enough about the advertising business. My cynical spot truly enjoyed this:
I haven’t stepped in to the Tiger Woods fiasco because a) It’s none of my business and b) I don’t care. But I have to applaud the chutzpah of one Kyle Verhovshek from Missoula, Montana who left this comment on NPR’s web site after the story broke about the world’s most famous golfer taking an indefinite leave from golf (to work on being a better husband, father and person….Uh-Huh.) Folf? Really? In case the you cant read the type:
Elin, if you happen to be perusing NPR… know that there is a man out there in Montana who will love you no matter what. Lose the zero, get with the hero. I’m more into folf than golf and will raise Tiger’s children as my own.
Sincerely,
Kyle
P.S. I’m poor, but you’re not… so everything will work out.
The timing on this is perfect because I’ve been fighting this battle with the cretins…I mean clients…for the the last two weeks. Like the new client (a very nice one, though) who brought me some logo ideas for his his new place, saying “you know, my wife has a good eye and is very creative.” ARRGHH! I love it when he says “Are you going to do it in Microsoft Word?” HA! A big thank you to Robb for sharing this…it’s spot on.
Twitter brings all sorts of people out of the woodwork. Porn vendors, loan sharks, scam artists. Too “Social” media, really. The lack of face-to-face contact gives people the courage to share all sorts of stuff. Like this person in a nearby state who sent out a Tweet. I went to their blog and read this:
“the voices in my head are quiet now and rarly if ever keep me up. but i know there will be a time when i will lose this controll i have now and be on auto pilot again. it is scarry and thats why i dont leave my house alone any more. i dont know when or even where i will wake up. the everpresent specter of have my life stolen again by the auto pilot is enough to keep me here in my home.”
I doubt this person would say this on a radio or TV station or print it in the newspaper. I do feel sad for this person, but am planing my relocation very soon. YIKES.
In the factory we make cosmetics; in the drugstore we sell hope. Charles Revson
In advertising we’re hired to make promises. To fill a void in people lives. If you buy XYZ, you’ll be smarter/faster/envied/ thinner/ better/ happier/prettier/whatever. And so it goes with the ads we see for Thanksgiving…happy families together, sitting at a beautifully decorated table, the perfect turkey. LOOK! Buy THIS Turkey and your family/life/house will be just like this.
The reality is:You’re with your clan, most of whom have traded their booze and brains for a bible and Glenn Beck. A mother who fills every space with incessant chatter, Uncle “Pull my Finger” Paul, neurotic Aunt Opal, Grandmother who can’t hear and host of cousins who wear too much flannel. (You start frantically searching for the adoption papers because you’re certain these are not your people.) UGH.
I’ve always wondered what would happen if a company got REAL with its message for once and said what most of us are thinking. Maybe Southwest Airlines could offer the DFD: a Dysfunctional Family Discount. Wanna getaway? YES!
But advertising is about hope, isn’t it? Maybe this year will be different. So if you’re fortunate enough to celebrate the holiday with a family who is least tolerable, then enjoy your feast and count your blessings. And the turkey? Here’s how to ensure a perfect result:
This has nothing to do with advertising, but it’s an awesome edit. I was captivated by it, even though it felt a tad creepy here and there. And, I recognized every single one of them another indication of just how old I must really be. Thanks to my friend Joe for sharing this…you’ll love it.
I had no idea there was so much to celebrate. Can you imagine being the lucky agency chosen to develop the PR and marketing strategy for something obscure as, say, Straw Hat Month or Pleasure Your Mate Month? See (what I am assuming is) a complete list here. I’m highlighting my favorites…and I am NOT making any of this up.
January:It’s OK to be Different Month, Love Yourself Month,Prune Breakfast Month, Polka Month
February:Body Awareness Month, Natl. Pet Dental Health Awareness Month, Termite Awareness Month
March: Humorists Are Artists Month, On-Hold Month, Umbrella Month
April: Natl Frog Month, National Welding Month, Straw Hat Month, National Soft Pretzel Month, Alcohol Awareness Month (YAY!)
May: Revise Your Work Schedule Month, Smile Month, Vinegar Month, Ultraviolet Awareness Month
June: Accordion Awareness Month, Natl Pharmacists Declare War on Alcoholism, Natl Celibacy Awareness Month, Potty Training Awareness Month, Rebuild Your Life Month
July: Smart Irrigation Month, Share a Sunset with Your Lover Month, Horseradish Month
August:Natl Inventors’ Month, Neurosurgery Outreach Month, Panini Month, What Will Be Your Legacy Month
September: Be Kind To Editors and Writers Month, Pleasure Your Mate Month, Shameless Promotion Month
adchick 
