Shhhhhh.

Almost two decades ago I was hired to unmoribund a giant agency that was never anything but moribund.

You might just as well have asked me to wallpaper the Grand Canyon. Not only had it never been done. I'm not sure it ever could be done.

But this was a long time ago. 

I was more gullible.

And the "we're gonna be famous" spiel was newer then. They threw a lot of money at me. I fell for it and I took the job.

I don't know a lot about organizational hierarchies and shit. When the conversation turns to matrixed reporting and flat structures and lines of command, I'd rather gargle with strychnine. I turn off faster than a teenage boy in an ice-cold shower.

When I worked in agencies, I never worried about hierarchies or org charts. I took a two-step shortcut.

1. Who did I need to impress.
2. Who did I need to beat.

That was all the bureaucracy I worried about. I'd try to do work that the key people loved. And I'd try to be better than the person or people who were thought of as the best.

There was less I had to remember. 

I knew what I had to do.

I still follow those dicta today.

When I got to this agency, however, there was a big problem. It's the problem at 99.79% of all agencies and client organizations.

There are so many directions being thrown your way that your brain frazzles. You don't know what you're supposed to do or who you're supposed to listen to.

Sometimes when I'm driving, I'll use my car's GPS. My wife will turn Waze on on her phone. Soon, I'll be getting two sets of directions, often contrary, at once.

That's what a lot of jobs are like these days.

When I was a kid working in the advertising department at Bloomingdale's, I had a very smart boss: Chris Rockmore. 

Somehow I got a giant ad to write and everyone from John Jay the legendary creative director to Marvin Traub the CEO of the store had their way with my copy. In addition to the buyer, the department head, the assistant buyer and half a dozen others.

Before long I got about 64 rounds of changes and I went to work trying to sort through them all and make sense of things. 

I was 23 or 24 at the time. And I had 23 or 24 competing sets of directions.

That's when Chris came into my office.

We didn't have computers in those days. We had IBM Selectrics. None of your copy was backed up. It existed only on copy paper.

Chris took my paper with the only copy of my copy and burned it with a match.

"You'll never write anything good trying to figure out what everyone and his cousin wants," he said. "Write it your way."

Years later, at the agency I described above, I realized everyone there was similarly stymied.

I sent this note to the creative department.

Every day on Linked in, I see about 92 posts titled "how to write copy." As if my way should be your way. As if anyone knows what they're talking about.

I prefer this:

Hearing voices.

You hear voices.

You're listening for what your partner might think.

Or the person in the next cube.

Or the account person.

Or their boss.

Or their boss.

Or their boss' boss.

You're worried about my voice.

The senior leadership team's voice.

The executive leadership team's voice.

You're hearing a lot of voices.

And you're listening to them.

Most of them tell you things like,

'don't do that.' 

'You can't say that.'

'That doesn't explain the whole story.'

'That might offend someone.'

You're worried about the clients.

The summer associate.

The associate brand manager.

The brand manager.

The senior brand manager.

The group brand manager.

The product manager.

You're worried about twelve focus-group people in Parsippany.

And twelve more in Bloomfield Heights.

And twelve more in Bala Cynwyd.

You're hearing all those voices.

Not to mention the voice of the CMO.

The CMO's husband.

And the CEO.

All those voices are rattling around in your head when you work.

They've drowned out some more important voices.

What do people think?

Really think?

What do they need?

What are we doing for them?

We've let that voice be drowned out.

And they've drowned out your voice, too.

The voice you were hired for.

The voice that says, 'I believe in this.'

Or 'this is how people speak.'

Or 'this made me laugh.'

There's a lot of clamor in our agency.

If you pay attention to it, it's like working with your head in a blender.

Take it out of the blender.

Find some quiet.

And listen.

To you.

g