George-o-Nomics.

The other afternoon a friend chastised me.

The surprising part of that statement is not that I got chastised by a friend, it's that I have any friends left at all. 

My best friend--a friend for literally half-a-century--died two Christmas' ago, and I will never be over the loss. Just as I will never be over the loss of my baby sister, who died in 2007, when she was just 47.

I have friends scattered all over the world, I suppose. But my natural shyness keeps me from just picking up the Ameche and calling them. I guess I have a weird 1950s relationship with the phone. It's reserved for moments of importance, not just gabbing like the scene of teenagers in "Bye Bye, Birdie,” Ann Margaret notwithstanding.

In any event, my friend slapped my wrist.

"Why have you done nothing--not a post, or an ad, or a quip on Georgeonomics?"

He's right, I said to myself.

A missed opportunity. 

But still I temporized. 

"The posts I write on economics usually get the shittiest readership," I said. 

But really, I just hadn't thought about bringing a Universal Field Theory--the one Einstein was looking for--to the modern world of advertising. Or better, since there's nothing modern about advertising itself, advertising in the modern world.

I thought about it this morning.

Saturdays--before most people are awake--I try to do a little writing. The same way a pitcher might liniment his arm or a golfer might work on her short-game. Writing is my bread and jam, and I have to work at it to stay in fighting trim.

So, my wife out of the house for a trip to New Jersey, I sat down in solitude to write this.

One of the things that I find myself saying to my many clients and to people who come to me because they're seeking work, is that it makes sense to go back to the most fundamental aspect of what advertising and brands are.

They are promises to viewers.

Buy us and you'll get this.

Value exchanges.

Even teenagers might say, let's meet after school and I'll buy you a cherry Coke. You do this for me and I'll do that for you. Quid pro quo, before that 3,000-year-old precept was tarnished by a merkin-wearing fraud.

But brands today, and people today, seldom make promises you can pin up on a wall. Here's what one of the world's biggest advertisers says when you search for them: "P&G is improving everyday life as a Force for Growth and a Force for Good — for you, for the world, and for generations to come."

Jeez. 

I was just looking for laundry detergent.

Here's what one of the world's largest industrial manufacturers has to say about themselves: "General Motors is home to Buick, Cadillac, GMC & Chevrolet. Learn about General Motor's rich history and dedication to community, sustainability, & innovation."

Here's the "promise" of America's most-popular pharmaceutical: "Ozempic ® (semaglutide) injection 0.5 mg, 1 mg, or 2 mg is an injectable prescription medicine used: along with diet and exercise to improve blood sugar in adults with type 2 diabetes. to reduce the risk of major cardiovascular events such as heart attack, stroke, or death in adults with type 2 diabetes with known heart disease."

With all that I wondered.

What is the brand promise of the advertising industry to the people who work in the industry? In other words, in exchange for your time and toil and dedication, what besides money, does the ad industry promise to the people who are making the leaders of the ad-industry wealthy?

To help, I wrote a few starter thoughts down.

1. 
You will get paid for every hour you work. That's only fair.
No more 1AM nights and six weekends in a row with no compensation. This is a business. You get paid for your labor.

2.
You will be trained.
Like learning to ride a bike, learning to work in advertising will involve a certain amount of falling. But while you're learning, we'll have experienced people to run along-side you, hands near your handlebars, to help you balance and avoid catastrophes. We'll guide you until you can ride.

3.
You will be 'honested.'
No HR-derived bs. When you screw up (and you will--everyone does) you will be told. And told how to do better. When you prevail, you will be rewarded. We will apprise you with candor, even when it hurts. That's how people grow.

4.
You will share. And share alike.
When management gets rich, you will get more. We believe in one set of rules for everyone who works here. No multi-tiered systems where some get Jean Georges and others can't expense a tuna-salad sandwich on stale bread.

5.
You are an owner.
Everyone is a shareholder. As reported in "The Economist" in a 2016 article called "Fin-Tech: Moby Dick, Venture Capitalist,”

"A captain might get a 12th lay (one twelfth of the remaining profit). In Melville’s novel, Ishmael, who was new to the business, was originally offered a 777th lay but managed to haggle a 300th. Although that would probably have proved a paltry amount, it was a stake nonetheless, and set a benchmark for future pay. Ishmael’s friend Queequeg, a cannibal from the South Sea islands, got a 90th lay because he had experience with a harpoon."

There's more to all this, of course. And I'm sure the Private Equity people who own both the holding companies (and the awards shows) would disagree with 207-percent of it. But their MO is using companies as ATMs. And an industry's should be the ongoing viability of that industry. 

The world should not follow the practices of natural-resource extraction. Where wealth is removed and never replenished until there is no more.

When I started GeorgeCo., LLC, a Delaware Company, I named it after myself not as an homage to my Titanic ego. But because I was selling my unique qualities and wanted that promise to be intrinsic to the company. 

I am anti-scaling. Because I've seldom seen scaling not affect quality in a deleterious way. 

I wrote my Clients' Bill of Rights and have it on my site. Clients seem to like it. Especially the ones who take the time to read it.

I know it's not perfect. But what is?