Making "the basics" the next shiny object we chase.

One of the most amazing thing about working in the modern advertising business today is you can practically go an entire day and not see anyone’s face.

Most people have three of their five senses under the spell of their iPhones and hardly look up from their screens. They see only what’s on their screens. Hear only what’s said through their pods, and they write only with the touch of their thumbs.

I realize we live in a thoroughly narcissistic age—where what matters is only what happens to me, but so much of our modern pathology reminds me of Simon of the Desert, Bunuel’s great film about an ascetic 5^th-century Syrian Saint called Simeon Stylites. Simeon lived for 39 years on top of a column. He was in the world, but not of the world.

Too often it seems to me we have made our selves hermetic and sealed ourselves off from the world we are trying to live in.

We don’t see what’s around us. We don’t notice the life in and of our world. We don’t hear the language of the city. In the parlance of industrial farming, we are allowing ourselves to be raised confined and limited. We should be free-range.

I wonder.

What if we were to start an advertising agency called “1980.” We would permit no cellphones. We would ban Slack. We would eliminate e-mail. We would even have the temerity to situate people in offices. Where they could laugh, talk, even think and work with...quiet.

Remember quiet?

We would do 1980 things. Like have meetings in person, not over the phone. We would take time to learn about a client’s business, and take even more time creating work for their business. Then we would run that work. Not for six weeks. But for a year.

Then we would build on that work. We would run the same essential idea (with new executions) for years, if not decades.

There’s more.

We wouldn’t monitor people like they are on parole with a timesheet system that keeps a set of corporate eyeballs on you more efficiently than any ankle bracelet worn by Lindsay Lohan. We wouldn’t schedule every minute of the day and into the evening with meeting after meeting. We would allow people a lunch hour—some time where they could take a walk and think. Or just goof off. Or see an old friend.

We would stop with corporate emails that read like a page out of Kafka in a gloomy mood. We would stop with 175 page decks that sell nothing beyond the lack of efficacy of a 175 page deck. We would take the time needed to explain the work we’re suggesting and why we believe it will work. And we won’t submit to 179 rounds of changes that serve to promote individual agenda more than a brand or product.

1980 would do more crazy things. Like decrease the number of departments to include only those that are directly instrumental to creating, producing and running work. 1980 would eliminate theorists and replace them with doers.

This is not to say things were perfect in 1980. Of course they weren’t. I'm not embracing the things from1980 that sucked and were wrong. But a wise old friend (even older than me) just sent me a note. “Everyone I know who’s still in the business hates it.” Is life any different in your neck of the woods?

1980 would do one more thing. Maybe a little Orwellian. Or Stalinist. Or worse.

We’d eliminate a bunch of words. Simply because they are ugly, meaningless and overused. I’d start with these.

Ideate.

Robust.

Agile.

Experience.

Engagement.
Click.
Interactive.

Iteration.

Outsource.

Co-create.

Data.

Metrics.

Radical.

Transformation.

Iconic.

Disruptive.

Vaynerchuk.

Story-telling.

Customer journey.

Innovation.

Humble.

Brave.

Purpose.

Values.

Disruptive. 
(I'd eliminate disruptive twice, just in case it sprung back to life the first time.)

1980 would instead try to make people feel something, or want something, or do something.

Honestly.

Judaism, Noel Coward, Joseph Heller and Advertising Today.

I suppose like many Jews, I have more than a scintilla of paranoia hard-wired into my system. It’s fairly well-documented that Jews have been on the short-end of history’s stick, for at least since 3,000 of our 6,000 or so years.

Whether it was the Greeks, the Romans, the Saracens, the Christians, the Cossacks, the Nazis or the board of the Westchester Country Club, Jews have served for several millennia now as an all purpose whipping people for just about every contingent who out-number us, which is nearly everyone.

That paranoia is exacerbated by our current system of un-regulated capitalism, particularly as it expresses itself in the modern advertising industry. The industry has all-but eliminated kindness. You might have been a bulwark on a major account for ten years, yet you still might find yourself out on your ass because you were accused of looking at someone sideways, or worse, you did something unforgivingly heinous, like expressing a differing opinion.

Most people, Jews or not, feel the threat and insecurity I believe management wants you to feel. Workers, and it was ever thus, are much more compliant if they labor constantly under threat of death. Do this or else, is the prevailing sensibility. Accompanied by Shut up or else and Work all weekend or else and Do more than humanly possible or else and Don’t complain or else and Be happy you have a job or else.

(I would imagine if readers could “like” the ultimata listed above, there would be a response of Vaynerchukian quantities. On the other hand, maybe people would be too cowed by the authorities potentially snooping here to admit they even read it, much less agreed with it.)

Over the long Labor Day weekend, a tsunami of paranoia crashed over my angelic shayna punim. I’ve been having a little more sturm und drang than usual at work. Despite invariably coming through, despite pulling more than my Promethean weight, despite generally being an exemplary, if outspoken, corporate citizen, I was upset on Saturday when I couldn’t get into my work email.

I tried and tried. I was locked out.

Fuck, I thought with my usual eloquence and discernment.

This is how they fire you in 2019, I thought. They lock you out of email, invalidate your key-card so you can’t get into the office, and some time thereafter, some minor technocratic functionary will probably have me fill out the requisite forms thereby severing my person from all forms of paid compensation.

I tried to check my email about ten times on Saturday. No dice.

Fired.

OK, George, I said, you’re just being paranoid.

Sure, I said, but as Joseph Heller stated so presciently in his masterpiece, “Catch 22,” “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.”

Jewish or not, this is the state of our business, of our world today. We are so under the unchecked-thumb of an oligarchic industry where wages and employment options are thoroughly colluded against the common working person, that it’s not unusual to think you can be fired at the drop of a pink slip.

About 19 times a week someone says something to me, or comments on one of my posts. They remark about my honesty and my fearlessness.

All I can say is it’s sad that we have to laud someone for fulfilling our human obligation to be honest and outspoken. Isn’t that the minimum requirement of our species? To tell the truth as you see it?

How far we have fallen.

How scared we have all become.

How sad it all is.

--

PS.  Two side stories. 

When I got hired at my first agency job, the agency's ECD (when that was the biggest creative title) said to me, "I want this to be the kind of place where you work hard all day and you go home, you're proud to tell your spouse what you did."

My third agency job, the ECD said to me, "I want this to be the kind of place where you can be as good as you think you are."

Again, to cite Joseph Heller, "Something Happened."

Advertising career hacks.

Come December (if we make it that long) I’ll begin my 35^th year of being paid by an ad agency. Here are some things I’ve learned along the way that just might have made it possible for me to last that long.

Advertising career hacks we can call them.

1. Always ask for definition and for an example. For instance, when someone spouts a cliché, an homily, or uses a word or phrase you don’t understand, question it. Say “what does that mean?” Or “could you show me the data on that.” While at a digital agency, I remember at least 97 egg-headed new media people telling me that the only thing that mattered to a brand was “Facebook likes.” I said, “tell me one brand that was built that way.” Doing this won’t make you popular in the least. But it could help keep you sane.

2.Never boast about how late you worked. There are a lot of people who are quick to let you know they worked till one in the morning or all weekend long. So what? All they’ve proven is that they have no internal governor and don’t know how to say, “I’ve done my job.” Keep your blood, sweat, toil and tears to yourself. And go home when you’re tired. PS. Nobody has much more than six or eight really productive hours in them. If you’re staying till the sun rises, it’s probably because you hate going home.

3. Do it two ways. I’ve always been staggered about the huge difference between doing the assignment and doing the job. People who create assignments usually make things small and limited and tactical. The job that needs doing is larger than that. Do what you’re told. Then give yourself permission to show something bigger, bolder and better.

4. Never use the word ‘journey.’ Or any other word or phrase that everyone else uses. If you pay attention to the amount of clichéd and meaningless language used in most discussions and most meetings, you’ll realize there’s little creativity in advertising and even less honesty. Be different.

5.Raise your hand. The best way to make a name for yourself and to be valued at an agency is to volunteer for work. And to do that work well. When you can do the jobs no one else can, you become a go-to person.

6. Keep records. Write down everything you do that is above and beyond. Make a folder of every complimentary email you’ve received from co-workers and clients. Eventually you will get into hot water and it’s good to have proof of who you are and what you’ve done. It won't keep you from being fired, but it's nice to remind yourself how good you are.

7. Have a good headhunter. Your first five, maybe ten years in the business, headhunters help you find jobs. Once you’ve developed a significant network for yourself, headhunters become more valuable as career guidance counselors. They know what others are earning, who’s doing what in the industry and can independently assess the quality of your work.

8. Become a “Now-ist.” I’ve seen about 99% of people in agencies talk about how over-burdened they are and how much they have to do. An hour later, they’re still flapping their gums. Or they’re out getting coffee. Or something. I’ve always found that it’s better to keep a short list of tasks that need doing and just do them, one at a time. Give yourself a stern and unyielding deadline, “I’ll have that manifesto written by four.” “I’ll write three campaigns before I go home tonight.” Mostly, do it now. And you’ll get it done.

9. Make changes. It’s not unusual for a bit of creative to go through 17, or 30 or 91 rounds of changes. Many of those changes are excruciating and pointless. But they give you another whack at improving what you’d previously created. When you make one small change, look at the whole piece instead and make the whole thing better. As Steve Hayden once told me, “The best revenge is a better ad.”

10.Don’t snack when there’s free food about. It’s the best way to add advertising avoirdupois, that is, ten or a dozen “meeting pounds” you’d be better off without. Also avoid vending machines, snacks 12-99 at the editor’s, craft tables and crappy agency sandwiches with cheese roughly the color of magma.

11.Write your name on your things. I’ve had hundreds of advertising books stolen from me. It gets annoying. Writing your name on things will at least force the thieves to use a little ingenuity.

12.When there’s a memo announcing a promotion, congratulate the person promoted. Send a note directly to them. Not to everyone on the cc-list. Write something personal and meaningful. You don’t need to tell the world you’re congratulating someone, just that person. Do it within minutes.

13.Send a memo announcing a new person the morning that new person starts. It lets everyone know their name, and it makes the new person feel special and valued. What’s more, it’s polite.

14.Never on Monday. Don’t come back from vacations on Monday. Come back on a Tuesday or even a Wednesday if possible. The extra day will do you good. You could beat the weekend traffic. And you’ll return to a short week at work.

15.Do something every day. If you’re a writer, read something well-written, or write something daily. In other words don’t stint on practicing your craft. Don’t skip a day. Try to always improve.
16.Stay in touch. The great Sally Hogshead, a singularly wise person in our business once told me, you have three things you can count on. 1) Your work. 2) Your reputation. 3) Your network. Work hard, very hard, on all three.
17.Try to find time for young people. Not only can they teach you things you don't know, they'll also be in the position to hire you someday. So be kind.

Labor Day Repost. My commercial with David Bowie.

I have legions of readers in the UK who have little idea that the United States celebrates "Labor Day," way after the rest of the world does. Most civilized nations honor workers on May 1. We do so on the first Monday of September.

As such, being a laboring man, I am off today. However so as not to disappoint those who aren't, a short repost from about three years ago.

-

Back in the early 80s, I was working with my long-term partner on some commercials for a major Midwestern supermarket chain. A young account person on the account did some research that showed that between Memorial Day and Labor Day, ground beef sales spiked. In fact that three month period accounted for over 60% of the year’s hamburger sales.

Late one night, my boss came to us.

“Boys,” he said, “we’re in a real pickle. We need to drive ground beef sales like never before.”

Practically before he left our office, Craig said, “Let’s get David Bowie.”

“Bowie?”

Craig picked up his guitar and started singing:

“Ground Beef Control to Major Tom

Ground Beef Control to Major Tom,

Packed with protein now and fresh from the farm,

Ground Beef Control to Major Tom (ten nine eight seven six).

“Genius,” I responded, picking up the horn.

In a second I was connected to the famous rocker. I quickly explained our idea and he loved it.

In just a few short weeks we were shooting and recording Bowie. A couple weeks after that we had one of the biggest successes of the year.

Hamburger sales went through the roof.

I’ll miss you, Ziggy.