When I started this blog, seventeen and a half years ago, I had no idea how "big" it would get. How much a part of my life, my who-I-am it would be come.
What's more, because I didn't foresee the veritable death of the advertising trade press (which mostly prints agency press-releases or runs 40 under 40 lists and calls it content) I didn't realize that in some manner, my blog and a few others, would become important as sources of "truth" in the ad industry.
I also didn't realize how many people would count on Ad Aged because of that. I don't have Nielsen data or any readership information other than what's supplied by LinkedIn--but just judging by the likes I get and the notes from various industry scions, Ad Aged has more than a little sway in the industry.
Because of that, I've begun reaching out to people I know. If I think they have something important to say, I've begun offering them "space" in my blog.
Late last week, I offered Ad Aged to TJ Bennett. TJ and I don't know each other well. We worked together briefly when I freelanced at Hill Holliday in New York back in 2006. And we reconnected back in July or August on TJ's really outstanding "Desuckify Work" Podcast. TJ's hosted something like sixty episodes. They all discuss how we can help an industry that's lost its way perhaps get on track.
I asked TJ if he'd like to write something for this space. Something that can help TJ help people Desuckify Work. TJ is about helping people. Helping make work better. TJ's that all-too-rare type of human: a mensch. Someone who's kind, helpful, caring.
Someone with a soul.
If you feel like talking to someone with a soul, TJ is a good place to start.
Here's his post.
Thanks, TJ.
When I was 23, I had my blood scrubbed and returned to my body three times per week.
It kept me alive. And I fucking hated it.
23 years old and I’m stuck in a cold, sterile room for four hours with two shotgun needles jabbed into my arm instead of shooting the shit with my roommates in our mismatched living room after work?
23 years old and I’m surrounded by the gaunt, gray faces of my fellow dialysis patients instead of the bright eyes of my youthful peers at that after work place I kept hearing about?
23 years old and I’m spending eight days in the hospital fighting blood clots in my lungs instead of spending yet another week doing whatever the hell I damn pleased with a body that worked like a normal young person’s?
All that time hooked up to machines makes you question some things. Like who you are. What actually matters to you. And what is life, exactly?
Thanks to the kidney my beautiful brother donated six months after I started dialysis, I’ve been able to spend the last 31 years trying to answer those questions. I’m not sure I’m fully satisfied with what I’ve come up with so far, but I’ve come to enjoy the trying.
When people ask me why I became a coach, that’s usually the best answer I can give. I enjoy the trying. And I enjoy seeing others enjoy it as well.
That’s really all coaching is—trying. You may see some folks on LinkedIn promising BIG results like 10x-ing your productivity or scaling your business to 8 figures in 8 days, but that’s not my jam. If you really want to 10x something, I’m here for you. But I’m not sure it will have more impact than the simple act of trying.
Trying to learn more about yourself. Trying to listen more. Trying to find meaning in your work.
Yoda is famous for saying “do or do not, there is no try.” And he’s not wrong. We need to do things.
But we also need to do those things with a mindset of wonder. There is wonder in trying. In yearning. In discovering. In doing things with zero faith that they will turn out the way we want and still saying, “sure, why the hell not.”
People are often surprised by my transition from creative to coach. Perhaps they expect an HR person to be a coach. Or even an account person. But a creative?
Yeah, a creative.
Because coaching is one of the most creative acts I’ve ever experienced. My clients are creating something new for themselves every time we meet. Every time they commit to doing something different or scary between our sessions. Every time they try.
I even ask my clients to write a creative brief when we start our work together. Inviting them to use their beautifully weird mind to solve whatever challenges they’re facing, with the same smarts and scrappiness they’ve used to crack client briefs.
There is no greater brief than this one. And yet we so easily put it on the back burner while we work ourselves to death selling cell phones or SUVs.
My clients put some pretty lofty stuff in those briefs. Finding a career that makes their soul happy. Discovering their purpose. Becoming a better leader. Creating an agency that is great to work at and does great work.
I have the honor of walking along side of them as they take those uncertain steps towards something new. Some better, maybe.
They are trying.
And that makes my soul happy.
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