Last night was one of those nights.
One of those sad-sushi-under-fluorescent-lights-in-a-conference-room kinds of nights.
Over the years, I've probably had a thousand such nights. Maybe at some point in the evening you find yourself staring into your hands and wondering why.
Last night there were probably 30 of us there.
I don't pander. I try not to bullshit.
I'll be laconic about it: it was fun.
Thirty people passionate about their job, their work, their challenge, their clients. Thirty people straining to find the one right word, or perfect picture, or that ending that makes you smile.
Thirty people who give a shit. Who care--deeply care--about their craft.
Widows were excised.
Jokes were honed.
Points were sharpened.
I've been to the four corners of the country--from New York, to San Francisco, to Boston and back to New York. I've been in more than a dozen agencies.
For all the shouting about how the agency model isn't working, for all the bs about marketing being dead, or television being dead, or the internet being dead, or being post persuasion, post interruption, post everything, there's one thing good people, good clients and good agencies have in common.
We love what we do.
Bad sushi notwithstanding.
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