Wednesday, March 15, 2017

:( Wednesday.

Years ago, long before office-space theorists decided that we would be more productive if we couldn't hear ourselves think, offices had doors.

If you wanted to think, to write a piece of copy, to have a private conversation, to read someone else's copy without having people on either side of you talking to each other, you could go into your office and close the door.

Today, it's been deemed more efficient and productive if there is absolute mayhem all around you, if you can be interrupted by anyone at any moment.

Currently I have about eight ads running through the system, running through me. I'm not "the writer" on all of them, but I have to see all of them. I have to consider the things you have to consider when you're considering ads. Like does the copy make sense. Does it say what it has to say with clarity and precision and, heaven forfend, some degree of √©lan or even euphony.

It took me an hour to read one 60 word piece of copy. It took me an hour to find ten minutes of concentration--and I have prodigious powers of concentration.

Serious issues of work are no longer discussed. Lack of security. Ageism. Sexism. Racism. Retrograde wages. Or even the viability of "snap chat six-seconds ads." Certainly not the viability of working while in the center of a maelstrom.

Oh, boy.

Maybe I need another snow day.

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